Air. I need air.

My lungs are on fire, and despite my desperate attempts to bring oxygen to my system, all I can produce is quick, short breaths.

I'm going to faint.

When my knees buckle, Aaron catches me before I hit the ground. He carries me to the hospital bed before climbing behind me, connecting my back to his chest. "Try and match my breathing, Juju. Come on, you can do it."

I try, I really do, but the waves of panic keep crashing on me. Anisha comes to the side of the bed and wraps her hands around one of mine. The pad of her thumb begins to brush against my skin. "Judy, I need you to tell me three things you can see."

When I open my mouth, nothing comes out but small bursts of air.

"It's okay, Judy. If you can't say them out loud, just find three things you can see."

The door, I see the door. Something I wish I could be running out of at the moment, but Aaron keeps me firmly in place. I'm almost positive I'd just fall on my face if I stood up.

I see Anisha, and this is the first time I have actually looked at her. She's beautiful with sparkling eyes and a rich golden complexion. I see she has a small gold hoop piercing through the left nostril of her nose and a tiny, single freckle below her right eye.

Then I see a white garbage on the opposite side of the room.

Anisha offers me a radiant smile when I look back at her. "Good job, Judy. Can you now try and tell me three things you hear?"

All I can do is shake my head because all I can hear is my erratic breathing and the pounding in my head.

"Try for me."

Ridiculous this is downright ridiculous. However, when I see Anisha nod as if silently cheering me on, I close my eyes and focus.

Aaron's breathing is the first thing I hear, followed by the footsteps coming from behind the closed door. I try really hard to listen for something else, but I am left with nothing.

Not willing to give up, I try again.

That's when I hear it, the slow clicking of the clock hanging on the wall.

The storm inside me starts to drift away as oxygen begins to flow to my lungs steadily. With a slight sense of accomplishment, I open my eyes. The corners of my give a slight twitch upwards, showing the first time I have had any sense of happiness in months.

"There you go, Judy. Great job. Now, can you move three parts of your body for me?"

Anisha's request seems absolutely absurd, but then again, whatever she's doing seems to be helping.

Looking down at my feet, I watch the soft fabric of my socks rub against my skin with each wiggle of my toes.

Next, I roll my shoulders. The rigid muscles begin to loosen, and It feels like I'm releasing the weight of the world off my shoulders.

The tension leaves my body, and I breathe in a lungful of air. Through pursed lips, I exhale and gently squeeze Anisha's hand.

I'm okay.

Aaron gives me a tight squeeze after kissing the top of my head. "You did so good, Juju. I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," I whisper.

Anisha returns to her seat and says, "What we just did is a grounding technique."

Before I can make a sound, Aaron asks, "What's that?"

Anisha grabs her notebook and scribbles down something before answering my brother. "It's an exercise used to help manage intense emotions. It helps to take attention from whatever is causing someone distress, whether it's a thought, a feeling, or even a memory. It gets you out of that unsettling headspace and helps to focus on the present moment."

That makes sense. I might have thought Anisha was completely crazy when she asked me to name three things I see. It was like I was taking part in a live-action Where's Waldo game, but her little game was the quickest I have gone from a state of panic to being able to breathe again. Maybe I can look more into these grounding techniques while I wait for my discharge papers.

Right as I'm about to reach for my phone, Aaron clears his throat. "Where do we go from here? Judy has had two anxiety attacks since we have been here." He pauses, and when I tilt my head to look at him, he is already glancing down at me.

"Two anxiety attacks that I know of, and numerous bouts of crying." Aaron doesn't blink as he continues to talk. I feel naked, vulnerable, and uncomfortable. When I go to look away, he gently grabs my chin and forces me to latch on to his gaze. "Today was an eye-opener for me. I didn't know it was this bad. You can't keep living like this, Judy."

Judy sounds weird coming from him. I don't like it. Not one bit.

"I'm fine, Aaron. I can go home, and anytime I feel off, I can use the grounding technique Anisha just taught me."

Aaron bites down on his bottom lip and shakes his head. "You know that I would do anything for you, right? That I've always been open and honest with you?"

I nod.

"Then I think it's time you got some help—real help, and it's not the type I can give you."

My mind begins to run a mile a minute. Thoughts of my brother abandoning me, no longer wanting to deal with my troubles. My bottom lip trembles, knowing he has given up on me. "You're kicking me out?"

"God, no!" Aaron reaches up to my cheek and brushes away the tears that have begun to fall. "You will always have a home with me. I love you so much, Juju, and I always will. I just think that it is time for you to get some professional help—someone who can help you navigate what's going on in here," he says as he taps my temple with his pointer finger. "I can't be that person for you."

Deep down, I know Aaron is right. It's been a long time coming, and I'm tired of fighting. I'm mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted.

I have an important decision to make. I can either deal with my mental state on my own, or I can talk to someone who is equipped to deal with messed-up people like myself.

I don't know how much more fight I have left, and that is the exact reason I called for Aaron this morning. Although it's not how I envisioned it, he is helping by being the first to mention receiving professional care. "I... I'm scared."

"I'm sure you are, Judy," Anisha cuts in. "I would like to share some options you have moving forward. Then, you can decide what will work best for you."

"Okay."

"Well, first off, you can stay as you are. However, I think you already know that might not be what's best for you."

Despite how much I hate being weak, I know I can't do it alone anymore. I want to live my life. A life free from the hell I'm stuck in. I shake my head and say, "I don't want to stay as I am."

"I'm proud of you for admitting that, Judy. I know taking that first step is hard, but you did it." A wide smile takes over Anisha's face— one so wide that I can see each and every one of her pearly white teeth. "Now that you have admitted to wanting help, we have three different options for how we can start. Each one will help improve your mental health, but the biggest difference is how quickly we can stabilize you."

Anisha explains that I can find a therapist and a psychiatrist. Two professionals who will work together to find a treatment play that will best benefit me. However, I don't know if I could find someone to work with me immediately. I'm hanging on by a thread, and I don't think I have the time to sit and wait. I probably shouldn't have been so damn stubborn and found a mental health team the moment I felt myself going downhill.

As soon as Anisha begins to talk about my next option, an Intensive Outpatient Program, the weight of making a decision hits me like a ton of bricks.

What if I make the wrong choice?

Every day over the next two weeks, I would travel to a hospital's psychiatric office. Like school, I would be with a group of people from eight in the morning until two in the afternoon while learning different ways to deal with stressors and find ways to cope with my triggers. Between gaining knowledge on how to live with mental health issues, I would have daily therapy and someone to help with medication if needed.

If I'm being completely honest, the idea of needing drugs to help me act like a normal human being doesn't sit right with me. Just thinking about it causes my lip to curl. It's a giant pill to swallow, accepting that I am a person who needs brain medication to function correctly.

But here we are.

The thought of doing the outpatient program sounds appealing. The last time I felt the need to leave the house was a few months ago. Having a reason to get out of bed and being held accountable for leaving might be precisely the push I need. It could be nice to have somewhere to go rather than wasting away in my bedroom.

The positivity quickly disappears when I remember I don't have a car. My parents promptly took away the one I used in high school when I moved out of their house. Aaron has already missed a lot of work due to my issues, and I won't have him skip more on my behalf. I don't even want to ask Erica. She has already done so much for me. Plus, she has a baby to take care of; she doesn't need to have the responsibility of being a personal chauffeur to an eighteen-year-old.

My leg begins to bounce up and down like a jackhammer. Now that I have decided to see a professional, I don't know if I can do it without becoming a bigger burden than I already am.

I'm pulled from my thoughts when Aaron asks, "What's the third option?"

"An inpatient program at a psychiatric facility." Anisha's voice is calm and collected as if she didn't just tell me I could end up in a loony bin. "This hospital doesn't have a psychiatric department, which means you would be transferred to a different one. We have a few to choose from, but it would depend on if they have a bed available."

My mind goes blank. Just when I admit I need help, I'm told I could potentially be locked away like some freak in a psych ward.

I begin to play with my fingers, moving them from side to side like a fascinating new toy. "What does inpatient mean?" I already know the answer, but I would like to hear more about what Anisha has to say.

Her eyes sparkle at my question, and it's the brightest I've seen them all day. I feel like Anisha is sending me a subliminal message that being sent away is the best thing for me.

"Well," Anisha starts. "You would be admitted as a patient in a hospital's psychiatric ward. It's similar to the Outpatient Program in that you will have meetings to learn to deal with stressors and triggers. You will also have daily therapy and appointments with a psychiatrist, as well as twenty-four-hour care while you transition into a different mindset."

"So it's like a crash course on mental illness while I'm being drugged?"

Wrinkles form around Anisha's eyes as she chuckles and shakes her head. "I mean, that is not exactly what is written on the program's pamphlet, and drugged is a rather strong word. However, a crash course is pretty accurate. It's not a quick fix, but stabilizing you is a top priority before your release."

I want to fight for my life, and I have finally accepted I need help. I push from the bed and pace as I weigh my options. This could be my only chance.

Time drifts by as I walk back and forth around the room. Anisha and Aaron stay quiet, which allows me to weigh my options and think clearly.

I know what I need to do, but I'm terrified. It's like taking a leap of faith into the unknown, and I'm unsure if someone will be there to catch me. I want to get better—actually, scratch that—I need to get better.

It's time for me to put on my big-girl underwear and jump. I stop pacing and look back and forth from Aaron to Anisha. "I've made my decision."