5, 4, 3, 2, 1

Crap. It's so loud. It's too loud. You hear nothing and everything and nothing and everything. Your heartbeat, your blood in your ears, the chatter, the shoes squeaking, the snap of gum. You're alone. You're so alone.

The thought spirals. Down, down, down. Tighter, tighter, tighter. It suffocates you. You're alone, you're alone, you're alone. Why are you alone?

Your breathing gets shallower. Faster. Your heart races, it's beating too fast. You can't slow it down. The thoughts speed up, spiraling faster. Out of control. You try things: deep breaths. You can't. You can't breathe. Bilateral stimulation. You tap your legs, force yourself to smile, but it collapses too quickly, taking you with it in a riptide, pulling you out too far, too fast.

My thoughts have no power, you think. They do not control me. But that spirals, too.

Shut up, you think. SHUT UP.

They don't.

The voices are too loud, now. Everything is.

"No one cares." "You're not enough." "Nothing is ever good enough." "Why are you here?" "You shouldn't be here." "They don't want you." "You aren't loved." "There is NO ONE."

They clamor over each other, fighting for attention, vying for space, yearning for validation. You give it to them. You succumb to them. Quickly.

You're dizzy now, your eyesight blurry as the tears start to fall. There's nothing you can do to stop them. They're too fast, too fast. You push open a bathroom door, the first loud sob escaping. You barely hear it over the ringing in your ears and the drumming of insecurity in your head. You're not safe here. You never were. You find the corner and collapse in a heap. Or, you think you do. You're not really sure. You're curled up in a ball now. Nothing's slowing down. There's still no quiet.

Your head in your hands, you rock back and forth waiting for the noise to stop, waiting for someone, anyone, to come and rescue you. No one does. You have to be your own hero. But you're not strong enough for that. You're weak and stupid and worthless and unworthy, and, and, and there's a hand on your arm. It gently pulls you back into reality. There's an arm attached, and a body, and a head.

I smile softly down at you, letting the smile crinkle the corners of my eyes and scrunch my nose like you like. I sit down next to you and pull your body tight to mine. Suddenly, I'm crying too. It's hard, you know, for me to see you like this. I wipe the tears away with my sleeve, both mine and yours mixing together in the cotton.

"It's okay," I whisper softly to you. "I'm here."

You tilt your head back. The tile is cool behind your back and you feel the strength of the hands holding you, feel me holding your shaking body tight.

"What are five things you see?"

"I see you, with your glasses. I see the mirror I don't want to. I see the sinks. I see the stall doors. And I see my dirty converse, all covered in words."

Your breathing slows a bit but not enough. It's still too loud in your head.

"What are four things you hear?"

"I hear your voice. It's nice. I hear people walking outside. I hear my heart. It's fast. I hear the blood in my ears."

It's a little quieter now and you're breathing normally, but it's still not enough.

"What are three things you feel?"

"I feel your hand. I feel the wall behind me. I feel my T-shirt."

Your body stops shaking, but your hands are still trembling as you grip your shirt tight. It's still not enough.

"What are two things you smell?"

"I smell your perfume. And I smell toilet water."

You giggle a little bit about the toilet water part. You're getting there. But it's still not enough.

"What's one thing you taste?"

"Blood. I taste blood."

You had bitten your tongue. Your body goes almost still. The noise is almost gone. It's almost enough.

"5, 4, 3, 2, 1."

You breathe out, releasing the breath you were holding. It's enough. Your body is still in my arms, letting me wrap you tight in a hug. I've got you. I'm never letting go.