but it happened last week and I can’t get myself out.

Friday was my wedding anniversary. No, should have been my wedding anniversary. I guess since I’m legally married, it still is. Kinda always will be.

But instead of celebrating with a trip as originally planned for Year Five, I was at home, having a panic attack and reminding myself the end is near.

The day started out fine, and then, faster than a blink, it wasn’t.

I wasn’t.

I ignored every call, text, and person who tried to reach me.

I huddled under a blanket, in a corner, reminding myself how to breathe.

It physically hurt to get up and move. I was dizzy. I was heavy. I hurt in places I didn’t know existed in my soul.

And nobody knew.

I faked smiles when the police showed up to check on me because my friends were so worried.

I fake smiles Saturday for pics and Sunday for hanging out with friends.

I faked smiles at work yesterday and today.

But I cried a lot of tears too.

I have six more days until I’m done.

I’m so close, but it still seems impossibly far away.