"I love it when you're laughing, sprawled out on a picnic chair. Restless in my mind, dies out when you're right here." - Zach Bryan, Hope Again

(Eris Owens)

I'd never forget that day. It was one of the worst, yet oddly one of the best days I'd had in a long time.

It was March, March 22nd of 2022 to be exact. I looked up at the dark, angry rain clouds collecting in the sky overhead, my mind too distracted with a whirlwind of thoughts to care about the light rain coming down on me.

I closed my eyes as I breathed in the fresh air that a storm always gave. I felt the wet wood beneath me, almost slimy to the touch. My sweatpants would definitely be soaked from sitting on the damp deck, but I didn't mind. That was part of the fun.

I was in my backyard, sitting on the steps of the old wood deck that connected to our home. The deck onlooked our small property full of gadgets that my dad collected. My house was just to the right of where I was sitting. My Mom could probably see me now. There was a window in our kitchen that allowed the viewer to see the whole backyard. I knew my mom was in the kitchen, packing sandwiches for me and my other three siblings.

I took a deep breath, attempting to slow my quickening heart rate. I often burdened myself with the question: "What's wrong with me?"

I couldn't help but keep thinking back at the treacherous, embarrassing day I'd had so far. I could only hope it wouldn't get worse.

It had been going on for months. Years, even. Some time ago, I had started to experience extreme vertigo, a fast heart rate, and out of body sensations. Nothing really seemed to trigger these anything but pleasant episodes. They weren't affecting my day-to-day life, but my mom suggested that we had better go get it checked out, just in case. Heart issues ran in the family and all.

So, naturally, we took a visit to see my pediatrician. Long story short, he told me that everything seemed fine, and if I wanted to investigate it more, that I should see the local CHKD heart specialist. That day we booked an appointment to see the specialist, in hopes that we would get some answers.

I could remember walking into the specialist's office, my heart racing from anticipation and the fear of the unknown. I had sat beside my mom as a nurse entered the room to run some tests on me. The nurse told me to take all of my clothes off, and to put a paper gown on to cover myself. Being the 12-year-old that I was, I was terrified. With trembling hands, I remember changing into that paper gown and laying on a cold, squishy doctors table. In theory, these strangers could do whatever they wanted to me, and that scared the daylights out of me.

They hooked wires up to my chest, stomach and shoulders and told me to sit still. I remember asking them when it would all be over, even though it didn't really hurt.

The nurse measured my heart rate for quite some time. I could recall laying there, staring up at the fluorescent lights, hoping the doctor would come in and tell me everything was alright. I wanted the doctor to tell me that it was normal for a 12-year-old girl to be experiencing this. But they didn't.

After the tests, the doctor, a short lady with wavy blonde hair-that I envied very much-entered the room and informed me that I had a slight heart palpitation. She wanted me to get blood work done and to do an ultrasound on my heart before I left.

I hesitantly agreed, though I was deathly afraid of needles.

The doctor guided my mom and I into a dimly lit room full of examination tables and machines that hummed ever so softly.

A female sonographer quietly walked into the room and told me to lay down on one of the examination tables. I did so, and she proceeded to walk me through what was going to happen.

The sonographer began the ultrasound, placing a cool blue gel on my chest. It almost smelled of fabric softener. I struggled to relax, even though that's what they had been telling me that whole visit.

Gazing over at my mom, she had an almost pleasant expression on her face. I couldn't imagine why. Maybe it was because she was scrolling on her phone. Facebook, probably.

I glanced up at the small television on the wall. They were, of course, streaming the Disney Channel. A show called Gravity Falls I believe. It was an interesting show, but it didn't amuse me. So, I closed my eyes as the soft plastic from the ultrasound machine glided across my chest. I would rather be alone with my thoughts.

My whole body finally relaxed. I could feel every muscle slowly but surely loosen. I didn't feel as stiff anymore. My mind felt as though it was allowed to breathe again as my heart rate softened.

I breathed out gently and felt as though I could fall asleep right there on top of the examination table.

Just when I started to drift off, I heard the sonographer speak in a breathy voice, "Roll over to your left side, please."

I eternally groaned and followed her directions, rolling over to my left side.

🎶

Exactly one month later, I found myself sitting on our living room couch with a small heart monitor hooked up to the left side of my chest, as my mom read me the email we had gotten back from the doctor with my test results.

Negative. Everything was negative.

That means everything I had gone through was for nothing. All of that fear was for nothing.

Now, I shouldn't've been complaining, I was, like the doctors suspected, a fairly healthy 12-year-old girl.

That just meant we still didn't know what was wrong with me. More questions. Thoughts like, Am I just crazy? What if I'm making all of this up? What's wrong with me? Whirled through my mind. Most other preteens my age were living happy, normal lives. But at that point, I was not.

Things had gotten worse. I was a dancer of the classical genres at the time. Jazz, tap, ballet and whatnot. Every time I would go to class I would have this sensation. My heart rate would speed up, I would feel as though I wasn't in control of my body, and I would panic.

My mom claimed that I was doing this for attention. Being the oldest sibling wasn't always easy, but I would never, ever go to that extent just for a little affection.

But all of this was months ago.

These were the events that led up to that awful day. That morning.

Yet again, months after the previous, I was in a doctor's office, sitting beside my mom. I was older then, 13 almost 14.

Over and over again I had to repeat my story to the doctors and nurses: "I feel like I'm not really in my body. I feel kinda... dizzy, I guess. And my heart speeds up, I get kinda shaky and I feel really weak."

The doctor asked me all sorts of questions: "Do you have any eating disorders? What are your monthly cycles like? Do you have any mental disorders? Do you feel any fear in these situations?"

I answered all of these personal questions hesitantly, choking back my tears of worry and frustration.

The doctor suggested that I do some more blood work, testing for low iron, vitamin deficiencies and anything else that could possibly be wrong with me.

I tensed and instantly my heart rate quickened. Not this again.

The last time that I had gotten my blood drawn I had nearly fainted. So, I had added bloodwork to the many things I was afraid of. Now it was the moment of truth, fight or flight. But I already knew what the answer was.

The doctor offered to give my mom and I a moment while he went to fetch the nurse who would do the blood draw.

The moment the doctor stepped out of the room, I burst into tears of fear.

Ugh! What was I doing? I really needed to pull myself together. Looking back at that moment, I get so embarrassed. I should've just plowed through it. But no, that's not how I work.

By the time the doctor re-entered the room, I was having a full-blown panic attack, though I didn't realize it at the time.

I reluctantly laid down on the examination table, watching as my mom just sat in that chair, staring at me as though she didn't know what to do. She seemed almost disappointed in me. That troubled me.

My whole body felt numb. My face, my hands, even my toes.

I shook uncontrollably as the nurse tied a band around my left arm, trying to find a vein. My vision began to cut in and out. It was as though I was seeing spots.

I recalled my chest heaving, trying to find the oxygen I didn't believe was there. The doctor makes his attempts at asking me questions to keep me distracted, but it's no use. I can hardly hear anything now anyway.

I uttered something through my numb lips, but no one replied.

The nurse mentioned something to the doctor about not being able to find a vein. I'm not sure why, but upon hearing that, I began to sob, for any reason really.

I was so panicked, so scared. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't control what was happening to me, and that bothered me greatly.

I just wanted them to get it over with already.

🎶

Well, about an hour later with a vanilla bean creme Frappuccino from Starbucks in my hand and a F for effort, I had been sitting in the passenger seat, watching the rain coming down in sprinkles as we drove home from the doctor's office.

And if you were wondering, no, I never got my blood drawn.

The doctor had decided that I was too much of an emotional wreck to continue; and anyway, I had been so dehydrated that they couldn't even find any veins. So, with a not-so-wild guess, the doctor diagnosed me as anemic, and suffering from a severe anxiety disorder with a bit of depression that followed.

I wasn't really surprised, honestly.

That's what led to me sitting on our damp deck, staring out into space. I was still trying to comprehend what happened. The whole situation had felt so surreal. Did it actually happen? Yes, it definitely happened. Right?

It had stopped sprinkling for a while, so when I felt a raindrop land on my finger, I couldn't help but gaze down at it. The drop of rain was small, and slightly murky against my pasty white skin. It was a perfect shape of a circle; so pure and beautiful even though it was merely a raindrop. Without a warning, it slowly began to roll down my finger, leaving a damp trail behind it as if to mark its path.

I noticed that my hands were still shaking from earlier.

That's part of the reason why I was sitting alone outside in the first place. Whenever I would have something as physically and mentally exhausting as a panic attack, it would take me at least a whole twenty-four hours to somewhat recover. I was never fully recovered though. The memory of each panic attack would leave an imprint on me, scarring me for the rest of my miserable life. I would remember that doctors visit for a good long while...

"I hate doctors..." I uttered under my breath, watching a squirrel dig through the muddy dirt on the other end of the yard.

Pulling my knees up to my chest, I curled myself in a ball. Breathe in, breathe out... Ah, I finally felt like I could inhale again. My heart rate slowed for a moment as I watched the squirrel glare around at its surroundings very briefly, before going right back to digging in the soft soil.

The screen door creaked open, startling me slightly. I jumped a little, causing my heart rate to rise again. I gazed over my shoulder to look at my mom, pulling my knees closer to my chest to give me some needed comfort.

She glared up at the clouded gray sky as she pulled her zip up blue hoodie closer to her body. I assumed the chilly air had hit her. She slowly made her way over to me, still avoiding eye contact with me. Still too embarrassed to say anything to my mom, I just watched her, eyeing her every move. I did not feel up to speaking about my earlier experiences.

"Hmm..." She hummed ever so softly, now standing beside me. She looked out at the yard.

"I guess it's been raining, huh? I heard it was supposed to sprinkle a bit today. Hopefully it'll clear up before we go to see the O'Neil's," she says.

Frick! That's right, we had to visit the O'Neil's.

"Oh... yeah," I say. "When are we leaving for that?"

"Their camping site is about forty-five minutes away, so we'll leave in an hour or so."

"Okay. Are they all gonna be there?"

"Yes, I think everyone is going to have a fun time. Just take it easy, mmk?"

"Alright..."

"You can always hang back with me if you want."

"I think I'll be fine."

"Ok," she replied. "Want me to pack you a sandwich?"

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Turkey?"

"Mhm," I said.

"Ok," she said plainly before turning around and heading back inside. I could hear the screen door open and close in one squeaky motion.

I was slightly nervous to meet the O'Neil's. I didn't even know why. This wasn't the first time I had been introduced to them, but that encounter had been six years ago. I was so young then I could hardly remember it.

The O'Neil's were an old family friend of ours. Both of our parents had gone to college together. Their oldest son, Tony, was six months older than me. So, both him and his mom had been at my baby shower. Tony and I used to have playdates when we were toddlers, but again, I had no memory of it.

I always thought Tony was kinda cute. He was my type: brown curly hair, dark brown eyes, freckles, and he could play musical instruments. I was mainly going to see him, and his younger sister Layla. Layla was right around my age too, and she had just started dancing that last fall.

The O'Neil's had six people in their family, like us. Two parents, four kids. I have three younger siblings: Evan, Elaine and Ella. Tony is the oldest as well, with three younger sisters: Layla, Evie, and Chloe. That was one thing we had in common. We had quite a few things in common, Tony and I. I'm just not sure if he knows that. He loved the outdoors, so did I. The both of us had a passion for music, just different genres. The only thing was, he was a hunting guru. I had never even seen a gun in real life.

So, to sum it up, we had quite a few things in common, not really enough to build a friendship on though.

I exhaled deeply, preparing myself for the long rest of my day. As I stood, I examined my outfit. To my surprise, my dark green tank top and black cuffed sweatpants weren't completely soaked from the sprinkling rain.

I headed inside just as the sun was beginning to peak out behind the thick gloomy clouds, casting a heavenly beam of light down.

Walking over to the sliding glass door that led into our dining room and opening it, the first noise that reached my ears was my brother and middle sister arguing. It was a bit muffled though. I think they were fighting upstairs.

My feet left wet footprints across the fake wooden floor as I stepped inside. I closed the door behind me and looked over at my mom, who was quietly making turkey sandwiches in the kitchen. I walked through the dining room and through the kitchen to make it to the living room, where my little sister, Ella, was sleeping on the couch. Walking over to the TV stand, I took our Nintendo Switch off of its dock and inserted the game Animal Crossing: New Horizons into the game cartridge; all the while making sure to be quiet so that Ella wouldn't wake up. She was only a year old, so she needed her rest.

I plopped down on our navy-blue recliner and pressed the power button on the Switch. The screen lit up and I opened Animal Crossing. The classic Animal Crossing music began softly playing, and I found myself slowly relaxing to the somehow nostalgic music and the peaceful, welcoming atmosphere of my fictional island.

Isabelle gave me a pleasant "Good afternoon!" and any updates about my island. Apparently Flick was visiting my island that day. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. I loved Flick, the slightly emo, humble, bug enthusiast. I always found pleasure in catching beetles or butterflies and selling them off to Flick for double what Timmy and Tommy would offer me.

It was raining on my island. Ironic, really.

🎶

I checked my makeup in the mirror. I had only put on a bit of concealer and mascara, but I wanted to look somewhat decent. I mean, there would be a cute guy there. Not like that mattered...

I brushed my dark auburn hair out and put a hair elastic around my wrist just in case. I debated whether to brush my teeth, but since we'd be eating when we arrived, it didn't seem worth the effort.

I rushed down the hall to grab my gray sneakers from my room just as Evan was calling, "Hurry up, Eris! We need to leave!"

"I'm coming!" I yell back, sliding both my shoes on as fast as I possibly could.

Walking down the hall, I stop myself in my tracks. I should get a hoodie. Should I? Yeah, I should. Quickly turning around at the last second, I walk back down the hall, open my door and grab the first zip up hoodie I could see. It was my black zip up hoodie. I put the fabric up to my nose, sniffing it. Eh, clean enough.

I rushed out of my room, down the hall, down the steps and out the front door, making sure to close and lock it behind myself.

Glancing over at the driveway, I realized everyone was already in the car.

I hopped down the steps in one quick motion, jogging over to our black mini van. Opening the door, I climbed into the car, where Evan and Elaine were once again arguing about something trivial and unnecessary.

Hope everyone enjoyed this first chapter! I would love to hear your thoughts.

🍁🍂 Do you prefer nature or indoors better?
Personally, I love myself a mix of both.

Have you ever struggled with mental health? Or do you know anyone that struggles with it?
If so, I would love to hear your experiences!