The Vulnerable Banshee

Have you ever been so overwhelmed by something, you have physical reactions to them?

Not just crying like a banshee, or shaking really (though yes that's an unfortunate side effect), but sleeplessness, loss of appetite, vomiting.

You can't concentrate on anything else. You're completely enveloped in your current state of mind. Your body somehow paying the price for a mind overactive.

How do you fix things? How do you take back your happy-ever-after?

You long to turn back time, not in years necessarily, but months, weeks, even days. Try to remember the last semblance of sanity you had. Think of how things can go from so good to so bad in a matter of cumulative hours.

The loss almost death like in nature, life ceasing to exist as you knew it. Stomach turning, dry heaving and completely devastating.

How did you get here? How quickly the tides turned. And now you're drowning. Searching the shore for that lifeguard that once saved you, once pulled you to where you had never been happier, you were safe.

Now they stand on the shore and watch you go under. Allowing this overwhelming anxiety to take you over, pulling you under until you are no longer visible from the surface.

You long for that life raft of callousness you had relied on for so long, the one that kept you afloat. Now nowhere to be found.

Confused and hurt and twisted up inside. No one to turn to, nowhere to go. Nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide.

Vulnerable and battered.

Wanting to take it all back, put it back in order. Somehow.

At a loss of what to do.