I wrote this the evening after my daughter’s fourth-grade concert which took place on May 17th. I couldn’t publish it until now, over six weeks later because of how debilitating my anxiety has been. This was my experience while at her concert.

My daughter’s fourth-grade concert was last night and it was HER night. Her night to shine and sing her solos. Yes, she had a few solos! My night to sit back with my family and be thankful and proud. About halfway through the concert, I could feel it. A pain in my side I had never felt before and then boom, panic which more often than not, leads to anxiety. The irrational thoughts swirled and filled my head quicker than I have experienced before. My entire body radiated heat, so much so that I felt like I was on fire. I looked at Scott who knows the look all too well and I kissed Cam on the forehead and said I had to use the bathroom. Now visibly shaking and just sitting on a small toilet trying to calm my breathing, just thinking to myself I am missing her show. The show that was rebooted after a three year hiatus from fucking covid. The show that I kept hearing about almost every day since the beginning of her school year. And here I was, sitting in a middle school bathroom stall obsessively checking my heart rate, over and over and over and over and over again. Ok, yes, point made, I checked it a lot. I decided not to go back to my seat just in case I need to make a fast exit again and I see Harper looking at the empty seat I was just in. She actively scans the crowd and we lock eyes. Before her solo starts she mouths, “are you okay?”, to her 40 year old mother. A 10 year old who is on stage about to belt out Walking the Wire by Imagine Dragons with all her might but checks in with me first. Want an additional punch to the gut while having an anxiety attack? Well, that did the trick.

A few heavy feelings about this moment. First off, how in the hell did she find me in the back of the dark auditorium?! Although, I am so glad she did. Second, the love in that kid is astonishing. Harper is so caring, selfless and such an incredible human. Third, the fucking guilt. Yes, the overwhelming guilt I felt that it was her night and here she was, checking in on me. She knocks her solo out of the damn park and in a moment where all I wanted to be was present, my anxiety had another plan and wouldn’t let me. At this point, I am still shaking, my heart feels like it is about to burst outside of my chest and I am hotter than Hades and now tears are streaming down my face.

The ending of the show was a culmination of drums, lights, and the most insane amounts of loud banging on recycling containers. My brain and body actually were in sync at that moment and all they wanted to do was run. Run from the anxiety, run from the shame and run from the noise. However, I stayed. I had to. I pressed my back up on the wall as firmly as I could to ground myself and just incessantly kept looking at my heart rate on my watch continue to go higher and higher. The show starts winding down and the lights come on. It is now a standing ovation with people everywhere were trying to get to their kids. As I remove myself from the wall, I see a the mom of one of Harper’s friends. We greet each other with a hug and I whispered to her, “I am currently having an anxiety attack.” She said, “What can I do?” I replied, “Please just keep hugging me.” Without hesitation she grabbed me tighter and just hugged me while tears streamed down my face as everything around us carried on. Margaux, thank you for being there at that exact moment and for embracing and bracing me as long as you did. You truly saved me in that moment.

I wiped my tears and made my way towards Harper and told her how proud I was of her. She stared at me with a look and I mouthed, “I’m fine, I promise.” However, I knew I wasn’t. I had to get out of that space. I asked her if there were any friends, parents or teachers she wanted to chat with and she said she already did that. I’m assuming it was during my hugfest that I missed those interactions. I have never moved so fast in my life to get out of a musty auditorium and out into fresh air. We took a picture to commemorate the evening as shown above. In that moment you would never know what I was struggling with. Cam was looking down because she didn’t want to be in the picture and she just lost it. She was tired from the long night and sitting for almost two hours, and not to mention, she already saw the show at school earlier that same day. So, she was clearly done. Cam tends to lean on me more in those moments and when I am in one of my anxiety attacks I cannot parent her. I truly cannot parent her. The amount of guilt I feel when it comes to saying that statement and writing that twice in a row is heartbreaking, but it is true. I cannot care for someone having a meltdown when my body and brain are acting in opposing directions. It is a recipe for disaster

After getting home, Scott did his best dealing with someone who only wants to be with me but physically can’t. Harper checks on me one final last time and I tell her how sorry I am and cry. She tells me that it is okay, she understands and quietly puts herself to bed. All that is left now is for me to work on quieting the anxiety. I take out all the stops and do all of the things that I normally do when I get anxious. Nothing was working. I think I called all members of my select anxiety friend/family unit and they couldn’t help me. Normally I just need to call one person and I can usually rework my brain after that. Now, in these moments, my friends/family are all so kind and thoughtful but my brain needs immediate relief. So, if one voice or their advice can’t soothe me, I move on and call the next. Seems pretty rude if you ask me and that is coming from the one actually doing it, so I get it. I am grateful that they all know me and they all get my struggles with anxiety as much as they can.

That day was one of the longer attacks I have had in a long time. The symptoms are getting worse and the length of my attacks are longer. Little did I know that this was the start of six of the most grueling physically and mentally draining weeks of my life when it comes to my anxiety.