There has to be a word for it. There is a word for everything. If not in English, then in some language.
The feeling that a large stone has dropped into your stomach, heavy, sinking. When for a second, the breath catches in your throat, stuck. When you can't see anything, everything blurs. When you need to close your eyes and remind yourself where you are and what you are doing. Remind yourself, because you lost track completely.
And the fear. A fear like no other. It's insidious and claustrophobic. And so very black. A fear that you cannot control, cannot win against. Because for that never-ending moment, which feels like an eternity, it is all you can feel, in your very bones. It holds a dagger to your throat, right where the breath catches, almost lovingly, threatening, but never hard enough to kill you. And that's the worst bit. When you know you won't die, but that it will keep coming back. When you know its always lurking, waiting to hold the cold steel against your throat, caressing but not killing. The weight of that stone in your stomach constricting and knotted tight.
All it takes it a moment, a word, a look, for it to attack again.
There has to be a word for it. And maybe if I find that word, if I know how ti describe it, explain it, maybe then I can get some help. Maybe then I'll have a little control over it. Illusory of course, but maybe, it'll help. Because otherwise, I don't think I have any hope left.