It’s past midnight when the phone rings. Her voice trembles. I listen — her words are measured. She can go months without having one, but when it shows up, it roars in with uncontrolled waves that totally submerge her.

“It strangles my throat and scares the shit out of me,” she whispers.

She’s talking about a panic attack.

I can hear her eyes well up in tears as she asks me a question.

“Have you ever felt completely overwhelmed?”

Those attacks come at her like bolts of lightning.

She’ll be fine, thinking about how she might organize her day, and then it happens — she accidentally presses a trigger. She remembers a stack of things that require resolution, where nothing has been achieved… and she turns white. The blood rushes from her head, a tight steel band winds instantly around her chest, and her heart races wildly out of control.

She’s aware of what’s happening and immediately tries to change her thoughts. It’s hopeless. For minutes that feel like a lifetime — she’s convinced herself she will fail. It terrifies and horrifies her when she imagines all the horrible consequences. It paralyzes her. She can’t move a muscle or think clearly about what… she should do next.

I listen as she breathes and sighs.

Then gradually, I can feel her stillness. Her narrative becomes clearer, focused. Sharing her thoughts with me has calmed her down, and she says she’s composed.

I can hear her smile… faintly.

She is peaceful and determined. And she promises and swears — she’ll make things happen.

“I’d fucking better,” she laughs nervously.

The thing is… I knew exactly how she felt.

She apologized over and over for calling so late and thanked me too many times… before quietly hanging up.

I’m not sure I helped her very much… all I did was listen.

—————

I wrote this narrative flash fiction for a Health Care/Crisis Service, which — shortly after — saw a 31% increase in requests for help. Why did this post succeed?

Listicles and long blogs catalogue symptoms. Flash fiction vividly recreates them.

The trembling voice, the midnight setting, the friend who just listens — these aren’t tactics. Flash fiction sits in the mess with you. When readers feel understood… they act. Recognition precedes conversion.

That health care Crisis Service promised 24-hour availability to listen.
Their readers responded.

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