You'd think it was an earthquake. You'd think some heavy footed person walked behind you and the floor caved in with each step. You'd grab your chair... and you'd hang on. This must be it. You'd pray for safety.
... and then... several moments later (when things weren't falling off the wall, and no one else was in the house with you) you'd realize it wasn't another person, and it wasn't an earthquake. It was you; your heart panicking and beating so violently out of your chest. Because sitting home on a Friday evening after a long week at work is so terrifying, right? Watching the sun go down out the window facing west.
I thought I was safe. I was wrong. The panic attacks are back. And they are eating me alive.