Anxiety's a Bitch

<Hey y'all, sorry I haven't posted in a long time, school this year is insane. (I probably shouldn't have taken five AP classes and participated in every music activity in my school. I guess that's what happens when you feel like nothing you do is good enough... I try to do all this stuff to make me feel better about myself but then I just end up stressing myself out and having panic attacks...oops.) Anyway, here's one based on an ask by Carmat1. Thanks for any feedback you give, this is how my anxiety is so I'm sorry if anyone experiences it differently I don't want to minimize anyone else's experience. FYI, This one definitely could have serious trigger warnings for people, it deals with some intense thoughts and a panic attack.


And I just wanted to say how much I've appreciated everyone's comments and likes and reads, it makes me really happy to know there's someone out there who cares.>


It all started when the lists for chairs in band and the decathlon placement came out on the same day. Band was his first class of the day, and he knew he wasn't the best at the clarinet, and hadn't had that much time to practice, but his audition had sounded pretty good in his opinion. Especially as a junior, he was expecting like fourth chair at least, right? Wrong. He got last chair. Last freaking chair. Even that dumb freshman girl who sounded like a dying cat had beat him. Without a word, Peter sat down in the ninth seat of the clarinet section, where he could barely see the director and had to deal with the tuba players. He held it together the whole way through the school day, knowing he couldn't break down in school because everyone would hate him if they knew something was wrong with him. He held it together all the way into the tower, with the knowledge that it was training day and so he could hopefully work off some of his frustration that way.


He went into his room to change when suddenly, his phone went off. It was a text from MJ: a picture of theDecathlon placement assignments. Finally, Peter thought, something he was actually good at. He clicked on the picture and scanned the list for his name. ALTERNATE? What the hell? Flash had been given his spot? He had been primary for three years now! What had changed, and why now? Nothing could go right for him, of course not. He was always destined to be secondary, or last. Everyone was always better than him, he couldn't do anything right. These thoughts and a million thoughts rattled around his brain all at once, and Peter could feel tears threatening to spring out. Shut up! He told his brain, just stop thinking! Please! But he couldn't turn it off, the thoughts just kept coming. Peter slumped against the wall and curled his knees to his chest. Why was this happening to him? Like maybe he wasn't that good, but he knew his audition had been better than Hanna's. And he had not skipped a single band concert.... except wait, that one time that there had been a mugging in the middle of one and he had faked sick.... being Spider-Man was of course more important, but now the teacher hated him....Maybe the teacher knew of his work with Mr. Stark... a lot of people hated Mr. Stark...but he still should have gotten a better chair... and why decathlon? That was the one thing he knew he was good at, maybe Mr. Harrington hated him now too? He had answered that one question wrong when he was sick with strep throat last year. And that had broken their perfect streak and he knew the team blamed him for that, they all hated him because he couldn't be perfect all the time. He didn't blame them, he hated himself too. He wasn't good at anything. He wished he could be good at everything, maybe then he'd be good enough for anything. He wasn't Spider-Man here, he was just stupid Peter Parker who couldn't play his instrument well enough and who couldn't do math well enough to lead his team and who was always resigned to hiding in the background because even if he got some recognition in band or decathlon, he would inevitably screw it up and get that taken away because HE COULD NEVER BE FUCKING GOOD ENOUGH FOR ANYONE AND ESPECIALLY NEVER FOR HIMSELF. WHY WAS HE SUCH AN AWFUL PERSON WHY COULDNT SOMEONE SEE THAT HE WAS TRYING HIS BEST BUT HIS BEST WAS NEVER ENOUGH IT DIDNT MATTER HOW MANY PEOPLE HE SAVED THERE WAS ALWAYS THOSE HE DIDNT AND THATS NOT OKAY PEOPLE DIE BECAUSE OF YOU PARKER GET IT THE FUCK TOGTHER!!


Peter realized he was shaking. And hyperventilating. And numb. And he was having another stupid panic attack, wasn't he? You stupid person! You idiot who always screws up and can't hold it together for anyone. Just like you couldn't stop that building from collapsing on you and you couldn't stop people getting hurt, and YOU NEED TO GET IT TOGETHER because you can't be like this in front of anyone. People are counting on you, and their issues are a whole lot worse than your stupid brain being stupid and fucked up and not knowing how to control itself, and shut up, Shut Up, SHUT UP!!! He closed his eyes and pressed his hands into his head, willing everything to STOP!


"Peter? Peter?! Hey it's okay! You're okay! You're safe, and loved, and you matter. Hey, hey, Petey, it's going to be okay." Tony put his arms around the boy, pressing him against his chest and trying to stop the shaking. He knew what was going on, he had done it way too many times himself. He knew not to force him to speak or try to fix anything, he just let him know that he was here. It was going to be okay. He gently ran his fingers through the kid's curls and rubbed circles on his back to try and relieve some of the tension. He focused on the amazing kid sitting before him. He had only heard a few things, but he knew it was bad. Internally, he was beating himself up for not knowing. Of course Peter had anxiety! He was a fifteen year old who had gotten killed for Christ's sake. He should have noticed something was wrong before this point, he should have let him know he was here if Peter needed to talk, he should have done all the things that he wished people would have done for him when he was growing up. Maybe Peter still had a chance to not be as fucked up as he was.


As these thoughts threatened to overtake him, a gentle hand landed on his arm, and Pepper put her arms around both of them. "Tony, it's okay. Don't panic, that won't help Peter, alright. You're both going to be alright." And she talks to them both with her wonderful mothering tone, and she sits with her arms around him, giving him all the strength and love he's never had for himself. The three of them fall asleep like that, Pepper being the wisest and knowing that sleep will do both of her boys good, and probably herself if she's being honest.


The next day, when Peter wakes up, he's surrounded by the two people he has come to almost think of as his parents. And he realizes he is loved. They talk to him and help him talk through what's going on, and they help him be able to talk to May and MJ and Ned about what's going on. They have him talk to Sam, as he has experience in counseling. Peter feels bad at first, not wanting people to treat him different, but every single one of them assure him that they won't. Everything's not perfect now, not by a long shot, but just knowing that he doesn't have to be alright all the time helps. Knowing that there are people there for him who love him no matter what and will encourage him instead of making him feel like he isn't valid has helped make the days a little brighter, even amidst all the evil he has to deal with.

Comment