Meet my friend - her name is Anxiety.
Chest starts to tighten.
The breaths become shorter.
The ripple of tension begins at the toes, sweeps over the entire body, stopping in the middle of the throat.
Thoughts start melting together.
The world becomes slightly out of focus.
Open Space...must find open space.
People talk...no...stop...I need open space. You can't...I can't....not right now.
It's raining...hard...too much water....not enough space.
Room with the vending machines...yes...I can make it. It's close....
I press my body against the cold steel, away from the door - hidden.
I slowly slide down...begin to count...focus on the numbers...on the breathing....
One....two....inhale...exhale.....
Panic attacks are defined by the ADAA as the abrupt onset of intense fear or discomfort that reaches a peak within minutes. They are the most common mental illness in America - affecting around 40 million people (ADAA). I am one of them. I started getting them in high school. As my parents divorce wore on my father would disappear for days at a time, I never knew when he'd show up. I would wait for the sound of the garage door raising and my heart would race, my body would tighten, and I would prepare myself for whatever was going to come next. My father had a temper. He was never physically violent towards my mother or I, but the rage within him was apparent. Once after a disagreement at work he came home and punched numerous holes in the wall. I still remember trying to explain to friends, "oh we thought about remodeling, decided against it - yes, just that one, random wall." When my father left for the final time he was angry - very angry. He had threatened my mother that she better not ever think about dating. It was then I started having reoccurring nightmares of coming home and finding my mother dead. We changed the alarm code, we were careful at night - always knowing he was out there, never knowing where. If I couldn't reach my mother the panic attack would consume me - knowing for sure something bad had happened, knowing for sure I was an orphan.
Throughout my young adulthood most of my panic attacks were associated with not being able to get a hold of my mother (we lived in different states at this point) and fearing for her safety - even years after my father had left. They were fairly infrequent though and for the most part, something I never gave too much thought about. Then a couple of years ago as my life started unraveling, as I started unraveling, me and anxiety became best friends again, just liked we'd been in high school. I knew it well, the signs, the symptoms, the feelings, after awhile it was the only constant I knew I could count on. My boyfriend also struggled with anxiety, but his was more constant, whereas mine would come in bursts - be so intense that afterwards I was exhausted. He was busy trying to help himself, I was busy trying to help me - neither of us much use to the other person. Ironic really that months after we broke up he finally voiced that he felt less anxious than he had in years. Eventually, I felt exactly the same way.
I don't remember the last time I had a panic attack. These days I have a routine - routine helps. I try and get more sleep. In fact I've probably slept better these past few months than I have over the past few years. I don't drink much caffeine, I drink hard liquor infrequently, and I do drink a LOT of water. I practice yoga, I read books, I have playlists for everything - happy, sad, yoga, sleep, running. I try and be aware if I feel anxiety coming on. The other day I was watching some bullshit mindless television show and was aware it was making me anxious - so I turned it off. Maybe it was the day, maybe it was the show (yes, probably the show) - either way, in that moment I knew I needed to pick a different activity.
I'm not "cured" of anxiety. I'm not cured of panic attacks. However, I am better equipped to handle them. I have taught myself how to take care of myself......
Meet my acquaintance, her name is Anxiety.
The breaths become shorter.
The ripple of tension begins at the toes, sweeps over the entire body, stopping in the middle of the throat.
Thoughts start melting together.
The world becomes slightly out of focus.
Open Space...must find open space.
People talk...no...stop...I need open space. You can't...I can't....not right now.
It's raining...hard...too much water....not enough space.
Room with the vending machines...yes...I can make it. It's close....
I press my body against the cold steel, away from the door - hidden.
I slowly slide down...begin to count...focus on the numbers...on the breathing....
One....two....inhale...exhale.....
Panic attacks are defined by the ADAA as the abrupt onset of intense fear or discomfort that reaches a peak within minutes. They are the most common mental illness in America - affecting around 40 million people (ADAA). I am one of them. I started getting them in high school. As my parents divorce wore on my father would disappear for days at a time, I never knew when he'd show up. I would wait for the sound of the garage door raising and my heart would race, my body would tighten, and I would prepare myself for whatever was going to come next. My father had a temper. He was never physically violent towards my mother or I, but the rage within him was apparent. Once after a disagreement at work he came home and punched numerous holes in the wall. I still remember trying to explain to friends, "oh we thought about remodeling, decided against it - yes, just that one, random wall." When my father left for the final time he was angry - very angry. He had threatened my mother that she better not ever think about dating. It was then I started having reoccurring nightmares of coming home and finding my mother dead. We changed the alarm code, we were careful at night - always knowing he was out there, never knowing where. If I couldn't reach my mother the panic attack would consume me - knowing for sure something bad had happened, knowing for sure I was an orphan.
Throughout my young adulthood most of my panic attacks were associated with not being able to get a hold of my mother (we lived in different states at this point) and fearing for her safety - even years after my father had left. They were fairly infrequent though and for the most part, something I never gave too much thought about. Then a couple of years ago as my life started unraveling, as I started unraveling, me and anxiety became best friends again, just liked we'd been in high school. I knew it well, the signs, the symptoms, the feelings, after awhile it was the only constant I knew I could count on. My boyfriend also struggled with anxiety, but his was more constant, whereas mine would come in bursts - be so intense that afterwards I was exhausted. He was busy trying to help himself, I was busy trying to help me - neither of us much use to the other person. Ironic really that months after we broke up he finally voiced that he felt less anxious than he had in years. Eventually, I felt exactly the same way.
I don't remember the last time I had a panic attack. These days I have a routine - routine helps. I try and get more sleep. In fact I've probably slept better these past few months than I have over the past few years. I don't drink much caffeine, I drink hard liquor infrequently, and I do drink a LOT of water. I practice yoga, I read books, I have playlists for everything - happy, sad, yoga, sleep, running. I try and be aware if I feel anxiety coming on. The other day I was watching some bullshit mindless television show and was aware it was making me anxious - so I turned it off. Maybe it was the day, maybe it was the show (yes, probably the show) - either way, in that moment I knew I needed to pick a different activity.
I'm not "cured" of anxiety. I'm not cured of panic attacks. However, I am better equipped to handle them. I have taught myself how to take care of myself......
Meet my acquaintance, her name is Anxiety.