When something hits me and I have to write it down, I don’t know that I’d called it a panic attack in the sense that I’m hyperventilating and having a hard time with things around me. It’s more that in that moment, whatever feelings I have floating around inside me are like they are begging me to get them written down.

That first year after Mari died, I had a lot of those moments. My grief could consume me and they fought to come out through the words I typed out into my computer or my journal. There were many times I had tears streaming down my face as I typed. My heart ached from the grief of missing her so much. My writing is what soothed my weary soul.

Time has kept moving forward and the pain isn’t nearly as severe. However, sometimes those moments have a brief appearance and my fingers get to work writing out my thoughts. I’m thankful I have writing to turn to.