I've started writing again, more for therapy than anything. I wrote a paragraph in the story that pulled from some all too real experiences. It feels authentic to how I feel sometimes, and was compelled to share it. So here it is.
"I didn't move for a long time after that, just sitting half in my car, with my feet on the ground. My perception started to close around me as I started to take sharp, uneven breathes, the chorus of nature from the birds to the wind in the trees were muted and drowned by an almost electric hum seeming to come from miles away within myself. With clenched jaw, elevated heart rate, and immense blood pressure, I felt my body fold in on itself burying the hardened outside into my chest while simultaneously exposing raw nerves to the harsh outside in my back, shoulders, and neck. I tried to hold myself together with my right hand reaching across and grasping my side as my other hand rubbed my head feebly trying to comfort myself. The vibrant colors of the park started to lose their hue and the entire image began to compress, the edges of my vision became unintelligible, not dark, not blurry, just not being processed. I gazed down at the earth, my eyes focused a hundred miles down, trying to penetrate through the top crust with my stare. My eyes welled up, but never brimmed over, I hadn't the energy to cry, to bawl in anguish like a babe who doesn't understand the world... and every stimuli is foreign and confusing and painful. I whimpered softly to myself."
I feel really exposed sharing this, but felt obligated, maybe someone could relate.