The mall wasn’t open yet and the door was still locked. Laughing, I realized that I’d never had this problem before. I’m never early for anything.

As I grumbled through redundant tasks (like adding and naming worksheets and copying and pasting cells into over 300 Excel files — seriously!), I found time to ask myself a bothersome question: why am I here?

Maybe I am having a legitimate medical problem instead of a panic attack. Maybe there’s a problem with my heart or my blood pressure. Maybe there’s a problem with my brain. Did I have a stroke? Maybe I’m having a stroke RIGHT NOW OH GOD WHAT THE HELL.

When your limbs are shaking uncontrollably, the gas pedal is a nightmare to control. My car heaved in fits and starts, thanks to my spasmodic right foot, but I didn’t make it far before I started to feel very cold and prickly.

Twenty minutes in: rocking out to Modest Mouse and eating a peanut butter cup. Thirty minutes into the drive: nausea, a racing heart, and a vivid expectation of death.

As I stood in the Walmart parking lot, a smothering feeling of unreality clouded my mind. Thoughts raced through my head: what is going on? Am I going crazy? Am I dying? Is this a nightmare?

I wanted to re-frame a breakdown into a breakthrough.

This is perhaps my most niche blog post ever, but: if you have an anxiety disorder and are planning on getting a septoplasty, this post is just for you.

What if, during my follow-up appointment, I bled again? What if I passed out? What if I felt nauseous? Here’s what really happened. Hold on to your hats, people.

I am trying to think positively, but I don’t believe a word of it.