Not Looking For Sympathy
"Panic attacks are strikingly different from other types of anxiety; panic attacks are so very sudden and often unexpected, appear to be unprovoked, and are often disabling."
These episodes can occur at any time, even during sleep. The fear and terror that a person experiences during a panic attack are not in proportion to the true situation and may be unrelated to what is happening around them. Most people with panic attacks experience several of the followingsymptoms:
- "Racing" heart
- Feeling weak, faint, or dizzy
- Tingling or numbness in the hands and fingers
- Sense of terror, or impending doom or death
- Feeling sweaty or having chills
- Chest pains
- Breathing difficulties
- Feeling a loss of control
Panic attacks are generally brief, lasting less than 10 minutes, although some of the symptoms may persist for a longer time. People who have had one panic attack are at greater risk for having subsequent panic attacks than those who have never experienced a panic attack.
I had one at work today.
I could feel it coming on. I feel my blood pressure start to rise. My vision starts pulsing and I start grasping. I feel like I need an anchor or I will explode. I will lose every essence of myself. It's so completely unexplainable. It is literal drowning without water.
I think I am incredibly frustrated with it because I know that it is illogical. It is so completely illogical and emotional and that is not me. I can usually ALWAYS see the logic. I strive to see both sides of an argument. I look at the bright side and strive to see the positive.
But when I get hit.
I'm not looking for sympathy, I'm just trying to .... not repress. Not hide this. Not feel shame. Because I do right now. I feel ashamed when this happens.
I was in the basement and I felt it. I kept grabbing my phone and looking at my contacts, looking at my text messages, looking at the time. I felt my control slipping away and I know that I just had 10 minutes to hold on. I had to hold on for 10 minutes. My heart is racing and I am sweating. I take off my sweater and my breathing starts becoming erratic. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing. Breathe in, count to 10, breath out, count to 10.
"Are you going to get this bag?"
My eyes dart to to the clock. It's been 30 seconds. Fuck.
I don't say a word and grab the bag.
Without reason or rhyme I start to cry. I pat my pocket and make sure I have my phone, like it's a fucking life preserver.
I send the bag.
I can't sit down. I pace. I breathe. I walk. I count the steps and bite the inside of my cheek. I bite my lip. I dig my fingernails into my palms.
The door opens and our relief comes in. I walk faster than I should. My head is pounding and I can't think. I just know I have to get to the bathroom and I have to get there as fast as I can. I'm sweating profusely and my vision starts to tunnel. I need to call someone. I need someone to save me. I can't be alone. I don't want to be alone. I'm going to die if I'm alone. I reach the bathroom and shut and lock the door behind me. I slide my back against the door and sit on the floor. I'm hyperventilating at this point. I'm going to pass out and I can't catch my breath. I'm drowning and the tears are just flowing down my face. And then I can't breathe at all. I can't feel my hands.
I rationalize. I distract. I remember that episode of Grey's Anatomy where Izzy just laid down on the bathroom floor. They knocked and yelled and gave her time and did everything. What worked? Meredith walked in and laid down on the bathroom floor with her. She made eye contact.
I'm not in Hollywood. I'm not on a T.V. show. But it slows my breathing. My head pounding slows my breathing. My lip hurting slows my breathing.
The damage is done. My eyes are bloodshot and swollen. I'm exhausted.
I could feel it coming on. I feel my blood pressure start to rise. My vision starts pulsing and I start grasping. I feel like I need an anchor or I will explode. I will lose every essence of myself. It's so completely unexplainable. It is literal drowning without water.
I think I am incredibly frustrated with it because I know that it is illogical. It is so completely illogical and emotional and that is not me. I can usually ALWAYS see the logic. I strive to see both sides of an argument. I look at the bright side and strive to see the positive.
But when I get hit.
I'm not looking for sympathy, I'm just trying to .... not repress. Not hide this. Not feel shame. Because I do right now. I feel ashamed when this happens.
I was in the basement and I felt it. I kept grabbing my phone and looking at my contacts, looking at my text messages, looking at the time. I felt my control slipping away and I know that I just had 10 minutes to hold on. I had to hold on for 10 minutes. My heart is racing and I am sweating. I take off my sweater and my breathing starts becoming erratic. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing. Breathe in, count to 10, breath out, count to 10.
"Are you going to get this bag?"
My eyes dart to to the clock. It's been 30 seconds. Fuck.
I don't say a word and grab the bag.
Without reason or rhyme I start to cry. I pat my pocket and make sure I have my phone, like it's a fucking life preserver.
I send the bag.
I can't sit down. I pace. I breathe. I walk. I count the steps and bite the inside of my cheek. I bite my lip. I dig my fingernails into my palms.
The door opens and our relief comes in. I walk faster than I should. My head is pounding and I can't think. I just know I have to get to the bathroom and I have to get there as fast as I can. I'm sweating profusely and my vision starts to tunnel. I need to call someone. I need someone to save me. I can't be alone. I don't want to be alone. I'm going to die if I'm alone. I reach the bathroom and shut and lock the door behind me. I slide my back against the door and sit on the floor. I'm hyperventilating at this point. I'm going to pass out and I can't catch my breath. I'm drowning and the tears are just flowing down my face. And then I can't breathe at all. I can't feel my hands.
I rationalize. I distract. I remember that episode of Grey's Anatomy where Izzy just laid down on the bathroom floor. They knocked and yelled and gave her time and did everything. What worked? Meredith walked in and laid down on the bathroom floor with her. She made eye contact.
I'm not in Hollywood. I'm not on a T.V. show. But it slows my breathing. My head pounding slows my breathing. My lip hurting slows my breathing.
The damage is done. My eyes are bloodshot and swollen. I'm exhausted.