I was recently attempting to explain to a friend, who is helping someone she loves manage his anxiety, how anxiety looks and can manifest in those of us struggling to keep our heads above water as the waves crash around us. Like so many things, I feel like the words anxiety and panic are thrown out there for just about everything these days, and perhaps that is what is happening for them, but for someone with a true panic disorder it can feel like your experience is being downplayed. While not wanting to sit as the judge of who is truly living with panic attacks, and who is having a nervous day, I'll only speak about my situation.
Though I later realized I had panic attacks for many years, the first time I was able to put a name to it I was in my early 20's. Driving down the road, singing along to the radio, gorgeous sunny day and suddenly I couldn't breathe. I was in complete terror, near tears and struggling to think straight. I pulled over and attempted to figure out what was happening to me. I felt scared. I felt like something awful was happening to me yet nothing was actually going on. I then reasoned that I was forgetting something, and it felt as if this something was crucial to my survival. I went through a checklist in my head: bills were paid, I had a job, I was healthy, and there was no reason to be feeling that the world was crashing down on me.
Having panic attacks for nearly 30 years I've gotten good at hiding what's happening to me. I sometimes share with friends that I'm struggling but no one really knows just how bad it is. I don't talk about the times I've hid in a closet, literally, because being out in the open felt unsafe and this made me feel protected. I don't explain that when I'm punchy, and sometimes rude, it's just coming out wrong because inside I feel like I'm standing in front of the gallows about to be hung. To suppress it and look normal can be physically painful as you smile, nod and hide that your chest is about to explode.
I don't think I've fully documented all I've done to manage the anxiety and panic attacks. All the meds (most giving me terrible side effects), CBD oil, supplements, strict diets, exercise, yoga, meditation, breath work, writing, therapy, more therapy, and even more therapy. Some days it helps a little and on others I have to hold on with everything in me as my fingers slip off the rail. I fear one day nothing will work.
To add to this fantastic roller coaster I'm on, as I've gotten older what was basic premenstrual symptoms has now turned into PMDD. PMDD is Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder....I like to call it PMS on crack. It sets my already ablaze nervous system into a freaked out inferno. I have a tracking app for my periods so when I see I'm 7-8 days out I will remind myself that it's about to start, I'm going to feel crazy and I need to hold on. My jaw will lock from the tension, I will cry over anything, visions of my past haunt me, and the fear will loom over everything.
Those of us who experience this are well aware our thoughts aren't logical and that our minds are racing with nightmares that will likely never happen. The feeling permeates our bodies and all reasoning and facts won't stop this train that has long ago jumped the tracks. Please don't shame us with what you think we should do, think or feel.
I was cut off by my doctor for Xanax due to my family history of Alzheimer's (long term use has the possibility of early dementia issues). So now each month it feels like I'm freefalling without a parachute. I'm one of the lucky ones though as I somehow keep it hidden enough, I still get my shit done, and I'm surviving. Yet I know this could flip one day. I know between hormonal imbalances and my trauma history, that the potential for a breakdown is there. But I keep trying, I keep working on it, and sometimes I even give myself a little break from it all.
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