Imagine driving down the road one day with your window down. You're
enjoying a nice breeze and the radio is on. The songs aren't your
favorite, but you like them because you know all of the words to almost
all of them. Feeling happy and carefree.
Then it stops. Everything just stops.
All
of the sudden you can't breathe. You're choking! Why are you choking?
There is nothing to choke on! Maybe something else is happening. Maybe
you're having some kind of allergic reaction! To what, though? There's
nothing to be allergic to. Now your skin feels weird. One second you
can't feel anything, and then the next it almost feels like your skin is
about to burn off. Something is wrong! Your heart! Your heart is
beating so hard! It feels like it's about to pound out of your chest.
You have to find a way to pull over because you're having a heart
attack.
Scared! No, not scared.
Terrified.
Slam on brakes! skid to a stop! Say your prayers!...
This
is just one of the many many situations I've been through in my
lifetime. I suffer from a severe case of Panic Disorder. It was brought
on by Obsessive Compulsive Disorder which I was diagnosed with when I
was about 12 years old. You think when you're a child that things will
get better when you're an adult. You think that adults are invincible
and when you finally are one that everything will be OK. In truth my
condition would yo-yo a bit. But the older I got the worse I got. I had a
few good teenage years where it wasn't so bad and I could go out and
have a little fun.
Oddly enough, the OCD is under control. It's the panic that eats me alive now.
The
kind of OCD that I have is mostly obsessive; meaning that I don't feel
the compulsions like most people do. I would think of something and
dwell on it. I would become obsessed with it. Like, when west nile was a
thing, I was terrified to go outside. I wouldn't go outside. There was
no way that you were going to make me go outside.
Most people
thought it was funny or silly. I felt humiliated and helpless. That's
just one tiny example out of the 34 years I've been alive.
I have a
hard time eating from a fresh loaf of bread because there is no safety
seal. The same with certain ice cream brands. You cannot pay me to eat
it. I simply will not. There are very few people who can invite me to
dinner because I will not eat just anyone's cooking. When new pills are
prescribed to me it takes me such a long time to get up the guts to take
it. I'm afraid of taking medications because the thought of ingesting
something that I cannot get out of my body is terrifying. I'm scared of
Novocaine. I'm scared of hair dye because, even though I dyed my hair
many times when I was younger, I may develop an allergic reaction and
die. These are all things that I am scared of NOW. Which is so wonderful
in comparison to the things that I used to be afraid of.
The
worst part of all of it is that as soon as it hits you, you are
completely and utterly alone. There is no one in the world that can help
you. There is nothing that can make it better.
No one can ever
understand what you're going through. In order for them to understand it
they have to experience it; and you don't want anyone to experience it.
You don't want your worst enemy to have to face something like this.
There
are a few things that ease the symptoms, though. A rubber band on my
wrist. It kinda snaps your brain out of it for a while. I used to have
big swollen welts on my wrist and a pocket full of broken rubber bands.
Then I would use cold. A really cold air conditioner. Ice. Going outside
in the winter. It would make me so cold that all I could think about
was the cold.
None of these coping mechanisms work anymore. The
rubber band doesn't help me. It doesn't phase me a bit. The cold just
makes me... well... cold.
When I was younger I made the very wrong
assumption that people were generally "good" and would understand that I
had some issues that maybe needed a little more attention. Well maybe
not attention so much as a little more exception.
It turns out
that people just suck. Because of their past experiences a LOT of
people, including my now ex-husband, thought that I was faking it (he
doesn't think that anymore, BTW). But, you can't fake terror. I even
have some people that I guess I am technically related to that also do
not believe me. Which is fine because, in all honesty, they have their
own problems.
Something that you MUST realize if you love someone
with this disorder is that they do not want attention for it. They do
not want to be known for it. They do not want that to be what defines
them. They just want you to acknowledge and accept it.
The people
that believed that I really had a problem just felt helpless. How do you
comfort your daughter who is crying in a corner in her room because
she's afraid to walk out of the door? How do you tell her it's going to
be OK when you don't even really know what the hell is going on? Believe
me, though, even when you don't understand what's going on with someone
who is suffering from something invisible, the fact that you stay
there, no matter what, matters.
I was told many times by people to
just stop. Just get over it. I know that they weren't aware of how
inconsiderate and ignorant their words were. However, after a couple
years I just learned to keep my mouth shut. I didn't mention anything
about the Panic Disorder unless there was some kind of pressing reason. I
knew what people would think of me. I knew the things they would say
when they thought I couldn't hear them. So I just didn't say anything. I
have so many friends, even now, that I've never mentioned it to. Until
right now.
I honestly feel like there is a monster inside of me
(mostly metaphorical, 'cept when I'm having my monthly, then it's
literal). When the panic attacks were controlling me, there was nothing I
could do. There was nothing that could be said. There was nowhere safe.
So that's what happened to my life.
Everything became nothing. I
had people who loved me but I couldn't go places with them. Because this
monster would pull me back. It would remind me that it was there and
that if I went somewhere that it was going to get me. Worse, it was
going to get me in front of everyone. They would see.
I turned
into a recluse. I couldn't be left home alone and I couldn't go anywhere
alone. I would have to have a "babysitter" if anyone went anywhere. My
family would cater to this because they had no idea what else to do.
Mostly because I wouldn't let them out of my sight.
Terrified.
I
knew I was a burden. The ones that loved me always told me that it
wasn't true. But when your best friend has to change the day that she
goes grocery shopping to better suit your phobia, you're being a burden.
Situations like this will show you who your real friends are. They are the ones that are there when the dust finally clears.
I
was having 4 - 10 panic attacks a day. It was exhausting. Even now, I
have high levels of anxiety and I'm always hyper aware of everything
which seriously takes a toll on my daily stamina.
During my years
of depression I had a few relationships. Because I needed to be
medicated, I needed insurance. Because I needed insurance, I needed to
apply for disability. For some reason there are these human men (and
women) that are called "losers". These "losers" like to find women that
are insecure and live off of them. Unfortunately for them, it didn't
take long for me to catch on. I might have been insecure but I wasn't
stupid.
But being in more than a few bad relationships did
convince me that I was always going to be alone. Who would love someone
that can't even stay home alone for 10 minutes? How could I ask someone
to love someone like me? I'd given up. I was 32 and I didn't care
anymore. I was just going to exist until I didn't have to anymore.
Skipping
all of the lovey dovey stuff, I met someone who loves, believes, and
supports me to no end. He has children. I now have a family. I have a
reason to be better.
I wanted to be better for the first time in a
long time. The monster in me was not expecting this because she'd won
so long ago. I started researching coping mechanisms again. Then I
realized that coping with something isn't really dealing with it. I
don't want to cope with this monster! I want to kick her in the face! I
need her to back off! I needed my life back!
So I started to research how others had overcome their Panic Disorder. How did they get their power back? What did they do?
I
started seeing the BEST therapist. The first one that told me what was
going on was OK. It was just my body doing what it's supposed to do, it
was just doing it for no reason. Or the wrong reasons. He assured me
that a panic attack cannot kill you. And it can't. It's almost like your
brain has a short. The wiring is broken. That is NOT your fault. You
can't help how you're made. I've learned not to fight it.
Don't
fight your panic attacks! Yes, you read that right! I am no doctor. I
haven't a degree in anything. I just know this from experience. Do not
try to stop the panic. Accept that it's going to happen. Accept that
it's happening. Then, know that it's not going to last.
I've found
that when I tell the panic attack to "bring it on!" that it's less
severe and it doesn't last as long. Every time you do this, you get a
little bit of your power back. A little bit of who you really are comes
back.
I am still working on it. I am not functioning like a normal
human being by any standards. I am, however, staying home alone now. I
can drive a couple miles down the road for things that I may need. I can
take my kids (my new family) places. I can take care of them. I am
getting my life back. I wish it was a faster process but my progress is
unbelievable! I am so proud of me!
Below is a link to some helpful
websites that may be able to help those who suffer from Panic Disorder,
and those supporting sufferers, to get a better understanding of the
whole process and learn to face it! It's such a wonderful feeling!
