I had another panic attack today. I woke up at around 5:30 this morning and was sobbing because in my dream, I could not find my daughter Mercy. She was missing. The dream was so real and I was so powerless to find her. I was frantic, overwhelmed and desperate. I searched from house to house and at every park I could think of and everyone I tried to speak to spoke Spanish. I sobbed in helplessness as I wasn't even able to communicate with people about my missing daughter. It was so terrifying and I was so broken-hearted and crushed in the dream. My boys were helping me look for Mercy but we never found her.
And then I woke up and when I woke up, I started having another panic attack. I couldn’t stop crying, I had difficulty breathing. I took a shower so that I could at least drown out some of the sobs in the pouring water, as I tried not to hyperventilate. I hate it when I have panic attacks. I worry about my kids. I have so little control over the elements of this world, my world, and the uncertainty of this life really leaves me forced to walk by faith even when I don’t want to. I wish the world was better, I wish it were a perfect world where no one did anything to hurt anyone else and that kids were always safe.
I don’t know what I would do if that dream ever came true… if my daughter or my sons ended up missing. I would not be able to breathe or function. I love them so very much and I hate just the mere thought of something happening to them. They are precious, they have never had to see the torments that I have had to see in my lifetime and I pray they never do. I want them safe, always safe and when I am not able to do that, even if its in a dream, it really freaks me out and I have these horrendous panic attacks.
I hate these continuing nightmares. I wish they would go away. I am grateful that I don't have them every night like I used to.