I stirred awake from my nap after about twenty minutes, the reminder of Literary Studies looming large. With my eyes half-open, I noticed crew members like Luca and me anxiously awaiting the moment we could dive into rehearsal for the play.

Next up was English class, and I ambled off with the twins, chatting about everything and nothing.

Mr. Ron, our teacher, launched into a deep dive into Essay Writing, but my mind was already drifting. Suddenly, a gentle nudge from my left jolted me back to reality—I was fighting a losing battle against sleep. Just when I thought I’d make it through, lunchtime struck, and dread washed over me. I needed to head to the hospital for my therapy session with Dr. Sarah, and my stomach churned with anxiety. She knew me inside out, which was both comforting and intimidating; maybe that was why she had been my therapist for so long.

After saying goodbye to the twins, I meandered out of the building, my heart racing a bit as I climbed into my car. The drive felt all too familiar, each turn echoing my nerves, but as I approached the hospital, I sensed the knots in my stomach slowly beginning to loosen. Parking felt easier than I expected; I reminded myself that Dr. Sarah's office was one of my safe havens, a place to sort through the chaos.

I settled into the waiting room, the ticking clock amplifying my heartbeat. Finally, my name was called, breaking the tension like a pin bursting a balloon. I stepped into her office, where Dr. Sarah sat focused on her computer screen.

"Good day, Dr. Sarah," I greeted, trying to mask my nerves.

"Hi, Sarah. How are you feeling today?" she replied, her voice soothing.

"I don't know... just anxious, I guess. I had a panic attack last week at school," I admitted, feeling the familiar knot in my throat tighten.

"I'm so sorry to hear that. Can you share what happened?" she asked gently.

"I was just walking down the hallway when it hit me—I felt completely overwhelmed. My heart raced, I couldn't catch my breath... I ended up passing out," I responded, my voice wavering slightly.

"That sounds incredibly frightening. Did anything in particular trigger the panic attack?" she inquired, her eyes warm with concern.

"I really don't know... it just came out of nowhere," I said, my brow furrowing.

"Sometimes, panic attacks don't need a specific trigger," she reassured me. "Have you noticed any ongoing patterns in your anxiety?"

"Yeah, I've been really stressed about school and grades lately. And social media doesn't help; everyone else seems to have perfect lives, and it makes me feel inadequate," I confessed, feeling the weight of comparison settle on my shoulders.

"Social media can be such a double-edged sword. It often feels like everyone is presenting their highlight reel, making it easy to feel like we fall short," she explained softly. "But remember, nobody's life is perfect; we all have our struggles."

"I know. It's just hard to keep that in mind when anxiety hits," I replied, a bit of frustration seeping through.

"Absolutely. One thing we can tackle together is challenging those negative thoughts and replacing them with more realistic, positive ones. We can also practice some relaxation techniques for those moments when anxiety spikes."

"Okay, that sounds good," I nodded, hopeful.

"Great! Let's start with some deep breathing exercises. Inhale deeply through your nose, hold for a moment, and then exhale slowly through your mouth," she guided.

I took a deep breath, feeling a flicker of calm.

"Perfect. Let’s repeat that a few times. As you breathe, I want you to silently repeat to yourself: 'I am safe, I am calm, I can handle this.'"

"I am safe, I am calm, I can handle this..." I echoed, each repetition reinforcing a little more serenity.

After about five minutes of focused breathing, Dr. Sarah shifted the topic. "So, how are things with your Mum and the twins? Are they aware of what you’re feeling?"

"No," I murmured, the weight of that reality resting heavily on me.

"Is there any particular reason you're keeping these feelings to yourself?" she pressed gently.

"They're all dealing with their own challenges. I don't want to add to anyone's burden," I explained, feeling a mix of guilt and sadness.

"Has anyone said or done anything that makes you feel that way?" she asked.

"No, it’s just... I often feel like a burden myself, making it hard to believe they wouldn’t see me that way," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I understand how you feel. But remember, those are the people who have loved you through thick and thin. They won’t just vanish now. It’s okay to take your time, but when you’re ready, don’t hold back from sharing with them," she encouraged, her eyes sincere.

I nodded, grateful for her understanding.

"And how is your relationship with your Mum?" she continued.

"We love each other, but I can tell it’s tough for her being a single parent. Sometimes I wish she realized how much I need her—not just financially, but emotionally," I revealed, frustration bubbling up.

"I get that. Balancing work and family is no easy feat," she acknowledged.

"I know... that’s why I try to make our home life as comfortable as possible when she is actually home. It often feels like she prioritizes work over being present with me, as if other kids matter more than I do," I admitted, frustration spilling over.

"It’ll be okay, Kayla. Deep breaths," she urged kindly. "Your Mum likely wants to spend time with you too. Maybe consider talking to her about your feelings. It could lead to finding a way for you both to connect more."

"Thanks, Dr. Sarah," I replied, feeling a flicker of hope.

"I think we’re done for today. Let’s catch up in a month, okay?" she said as the session wound to a close.

"Thanks, and goodbye, Dr. Sarah," I said as I stood up, feeling a little lighter than when I’d walked in.

As I stepped out of the hospital, my eye was caught by a flash of familiar earrings shimmering against the sunlight. My heart skipped a beat, but I quickly brushed the thought aside, convincing myself that it probably wasn’t her. With a shake of my head, I pressed onward.

When I finally arrived at school, I realized that lunchtime had slipped away while I was lost in my thoughts, leaving me in a mad dash to my next class.

Fortunately, Luca had saved me a seat, a small comfort amid my whirlwind of emotions. I greeted the teacher with a hurried nod and slid into my spot next to him. I could feel the weight of curious stares from a few students, their eyes drilling into me like hot coals. The teacher called the class to order, his voice slicing through the tension, and resumed his explanation about covalent bonds, but my mind was still lingering on that fleeting moment outside the hospital.