G, Helen. "What is Wrong with Me? And More Impending Questions." Thoughts for Those Restless Nights. (1996) Brain. Circa 2010.

One day you wake up and it's like your chest has always felt this heavy, a weight pressing down onto your ribs, an invisible force holding your arms down, and you can't breathe. It starts small, in the pit of your stomach, like a seed embedded in soil, and it slowly grows, absorbing your fears and your worries, feeding off of your inability to relax. It sprouts roots that wound themselves tightly around you, intertwine themselves with your ribs before you can fully understand what's going on, before you can stop it. Now speaking up makes your hands shake, group sports in gym class make you want to throw up, and you start forgetting what it's like to feel peace.

G, Helen. "What is Anxiety?" Questions to Ask Google at 2am. (2010) Google. Circa 2012.

You're not one for self-diagnosis, have taught yourself to stay away from WebMD because it does more harm than it does good (you were 12 and you convinced yourself you had asthma), but you heard it mentioned in Health class and you were tired of feeling this way and not understanding why. You told yourself that if you ignored it for long enough, it'd go away, but it's been years now and the feeling of dread that burns in your throat hasn't subsided. "A nervous disorder characterized by a state of excessive uneasiness and apprehension, typically with compulsive behavior or panic attacks." You only feel worse.

G, Helen. "Signs You May Have Anxiety" Please Let Us Diagnose You. Web. Circa 2013.

"Are you constantly tense, worried, or on edge? Does your anxiety interfere with your work, school, or family responsibilities?Are you plagued by fears that you know are irrational, but can’t shake? Do you avoid everyday situations or activities because they cause you anxiety?" Your search only leaves you with more questions. The hope that you were wrong, that your mind was running wild (like it does, like it always does) and you don't have anxiety after all begins to falter. All these symptoms sound all too familiar and everything's moving so fast, faster than you can keep up, and the seed in your chest is now a weed and it's spreading.

"Self-Help Remedies: Get Rid of Your Anxiety in 10 Days!" Who Needs A Doctor When You Have Health and Lifestyle Magazines! (2014). Web. Summer 2014.

You just want to stop feeling this way. You want to lie in bed and close your eyes and not be bombarded with whispers of doubt and snickers of criticism. You want to not replay that conversation you had with that one boy at lunch repeatedly in your head and you want to not feel a sense of dread pool in your chest at the thought of another restless night. You just want to be able to breathe again, and you're willing to try anything.

G, Helen. "Everyone Gets Nervous, Maybe It's All in My Head, and More Self-Doubts!" Brain. Circa 2010 - 2014.

You don't have anxiety. You can't have anxiety. You raised your hand in class the other day and your voice didn't shake. You tripped up the stairs at school, nearly slipped and hit your face, but you laughed it off and only relived it twice in your head after. Right before a test, you told a friend you were nervous, she whispered, "me too" and it's the most normal you've felt in a long time. You don't have anxiety. You just can't.

G, Helen. "I Watched My Mom Have a Panic Attack" Memories to Repress. (2002). Brain. Summer 2014.

It's the summer night before your senior year and you feel yourself lulling off to sleep in bed, that one Neil Gaiman book you've been struggling to finish open on your lap, before you hear your mother shouting your name. You aren't entirely sure what is going on, but the beating in your chest tells you it's bad bad bad. You run to the living room where you find the door left wide open, your mother's hands on her knees, heaving at the cool, night air. Your older brother stands beside her, a panicked look in his eyes as he haphazardly dials for your father on his phone. You step forward and your mother clutches your wrist tightly and doesn't let go. She tells you "no te vayas," don't go and you nod and haven't forgotten since.

G, Helen. "I Watched My Mom Have a Panic Attack: Second Edition." Memories to Repress. (2002). Brain. Fall 2014.

This time the ambulance comes. Your mother swears her heart is going to beat right out of her chest, her mouth going so dry she finds it hard to speak. You hold her hand as they examine her, translate your mother's panicked Spanish to the paramedics, your feet clad in mismatched sneakers, your bright pink pajama pants wrinkled from sleep and you think this is what your life is going to be like from now on.

G, Helen. "Long Showers and Even Longer Nights" Self-Prescribed Medicines. (2014). Brain. Fall 2014.

You sit in the shower sometimes, when you feel yourself slipping, feel yourself succumbing to the ever-present negligences and worries that circle around in your mind. Inside, you feel vines intertwine themselves around your ribs, pulling and constricting, eliciting soft, labored breaths from your mouth and it's hard, exhausting really, but you've gotten better at dealing with it. Showers help, and you've invested in some chamomile tea, and you think that if your mom can survive it, so can you.

The Escobar Family. "It's Hereditary!" It's Not Your Fault. (2014). Brain. December 2014.

You learn your abuelita is on an indefinite stay in the United States. You don't understand, at least not at first, she's got her own home back in Mexico and two uncles who have spent years taking care of her, but that's before you see it, the way she paces across your home, a rosary in her hand. You hear her muttering, "ay Dios mío, ayudame," and the way she desperately clings onto anything that'll keep her preoccupied even for a few minutes. Everything makes sense now.

Vampire Weekend. "Hannah Hunt." Modern Vampires of the City. (2013). Cd. Circa 2014.

The weeds inside your chest have sprouted buds and every breath you take feels fresh and new. Some days are harder than others and you're still trying to figure things out, but you've stopped taking yourself so seriously and you hope that the flowers that will bloom are bright and beautiful.