Today I called in sick to work. If anyone were to look at me, they would not see a sick person. I don't have a sore throat or a headache. I do not have a fever nor do I have a stomach bug. I have no virus and no infection. However, I am very sick and feel just awful. What, then, you might wonder, is wrong with me?
I have panic disorder.
Now, most people I know really don't understand anxiety disorder or panic disorder. They think a person with this disorder should just be able to shake it off or get over it. They think the words "calm down" or "just be happy" are like some magic spell that will solve anything. They think, "hey, everyone gets stressed out. Why is your stress any worse than mine?" People treat anxiety like it is an excuse or a weakness. Many don't think it is an illness at all. They don't know how it affects a person emotionally or physically.
So, on this day, while I sit wrapped up tightly in blankets to try to get my nerves under control when I would honestly rather be at work making money to fund my silly little life, I think it is the perfect opportunity to share my experiences and struggles with my panic disorder.
I remember the day of my first panic attack very well. You might not know it, but you remember that day, too. Everyone does. It was September 11, 2001, one of the worst days in American history. It also happened to be my 17th birthday. Not to minimize the atrocities of that day, but even before we heard about the first plane hitting the towers, I was already having a pretty crappy day. I won't go into too many details because, in retrospect, the best things to happen that day were probably my parents being on the verge of divorce, our only family car breaking down the night before, and me not getting a birthday cake because our oven was broken. To this day I feel guilty about wanting September 11th to be about me and not about terrorist pieces of shit killing thousands of innocent people. However, that is beside the point.
That day was horrific. I remember the conflicting reports on the TV and the confusion that followed. Rumors were circulating about more planes going down and more buildings being targeted, and all the while, the body count started to rise. No one knew what was going to happen next. Anyway, that night, I was IMing my best friend on ICQ (it was all the rage in 2001), when another rumored report came on the television. It was a threat to the Empire State Building. My favorite place in the entire world. At that moment, something triggered inside of me. I don't know why it was the mere threat of my favorite building being destroyed that triggered it. I feel ashamed that it wasn't the images of the twin towers turning into dust as they came down or people running screaming from ground zero that triggered it. I guess it speaks to the selfishness in our human nature. Who knows really. I just know that I changed that day.
I had felt general anxiety before this point. I remember being so anxious riding the school bus to my first day of freshman year that I was grinding my teeth so hard that my jaw hurt the rest of the day. I remember being on the edge of my emotions my whole life. This was different. I instantly felt like I was drowning. I knew for certain that I might die. I was shaking. Every nerve in my body was on edge. I had absolutely no control and I thought it would never end. I didn't understand what was happening or why. I just knew that from that day, nothing in the world would ever be the same. I was right.
From that time on, panic attacks were just part of my life. Bad day? Panic attack. Good day? Panic attack. Money troubles? Panic attack. Got a B in Spanish 201? Panic attack. Mother-in-law hides your liquor on your wedding day? Panic attack. Driving alone across the country in a $200 car? Panic attack. Driving to the Netherlands alone, but being diverted through the backroads of Belgium? Panic attack. Driving in general? Panic attack. New job? Panic attack.
What do you do when you are skiing on top of a mountain in the Bavarian Alps and a panic attack hits? Take off your skis, walk down the mountain, and never ski again.
When others see these instances as opportunities to overcome, I panic.
Usually there is no rhyme nor reason for a panic attack. This makes it extremely difficult to treat a panic attack. There is good stress and there is bad stress in life. My body cannot distinguish between them. My body has no idea how to cope with this stress, good or bad. This takes quite the toll not only on my emotional health, but on my physical health as well.
So how does it feel to have a panic attack? Well, I've never died before, but every time I feel that type of panic, that's what I imagine it feels like. It feels like the split second before death, but it is not just for a split second. It's like that split second will never end. It is a complete and utter lack of myself. I can't control my thoughts, emotions, or body. My chest feels like it is being squeezed to the point of explosion. I feel like I am drowning or like all of the air in the room is being sucked right out. Every nerve in my body is on sensory overload so much so that I feel the pain down in the center of my bones. Then comes the nausea. Then the depression. Then, the worst part, the utter exhaustion. Having a panic attack can make a person more exhausted than running a marathon with no training. There have been times when I had a 10 minute panic attack which put me out for 4 days. The attacks drain all of my energy. The pain is excruciating. The nausea is debilitating. The most ambition I can muster is to walk from the couch to the bathroom, and that is a huge feat. I have bouts of tears for seemingly no reason. And the whole time, the worry is unbearable. Worry for the past, worry for every tiny aspect of the future, worry that this attack will never end, and that this time, I will, in fact, die.
How is panic disorder treated? HA! That is a very good question. The quick answer is that there is no cure (or at least I haven't found one that is tried and true). There are times when I feel much better. Exercise helps, but then I get all in my head about my body image issues and it triggers stress. Same thing for eating right. I feel better when I eat fresh or non-processed foods but then it kind of takes over and triggers stress. I have tried meditating, but it is very difficult for someone who over-analyzes every single thing in the world to clear her mind. The best treatment has probably been doing whatever I can just to forget. Again, very difficult.
I suppose the first step for formal treatment is the correct diagnosis. In college, I was diagnosed with depression. A doctor in college put me on Zoloft for depression. I hated it. It made me into a zombie. I stopped it as well as therapy after a few months. In my first year of marriage, a doctor put me on Lexapro for depression. I hated it. I was not myself. Again, I stopped after a few months. For several years after that, I preferred the panic over the prescription medication. I would have rather been out of control than be someone who I was not. I decided during my denial that I was "passionate" rather than "out of control" and that my "depression" was just part of who I was. After a while, however, the pain and the exhaustion was just too much. A few years ago, I got wise. I discovered that it was NOT depression that had been plaguing me since my 17th birthday. It was anxiety. Simple enough. It was a misdiagnosis. The last primary care doctor I had put me on Clonazepam. This was the first and only prescription drug that actually helped me. I took it on an as needed basis. Often times, I didn't even have to take an entire pill to stave off the panic. With that little drug's help, I was able to sleep through the night for the first time in years.
I finally found something that helped. There was one small hitch in the plan. Going to the doctor is one of my panic triggers. I grew up with no medical insurance, so the only times I ever went to the doctor is when something bad was happening. I get extremely anxious when it comes to seeing doctors. So, because Clonazepam is a controlled substance, my military doctor would only refill my prescription when I came in to talk to him. He was really kind of a creepy dude, so I really hated going in to get my new prescription. So, in true fashion, I quit that medication, too.
So what does that leave me with?
Panic.
Not all the time, but often enough.
What triggered it this time? I don't know. I lead a very different life than most people I know. When I am not at work, I am alone about 95% of my time. I don't do this by choice. It's just how my cards have been dealt. My family lives a ways away from me now. My friends have more important things in their lives. My love life has been in limbo for more than a year. I've got a good, steady job that requires me to get yelled at and complained to on a daily basis. Someone just yesterday told me that my life seems very lonely to which I replied, "It is very lonely." It is true that I have a lot of stress in my life, but I don't think my stress is any better, worse, more, or less than anyone else's. It could have been a number of things. All I know is that in the past day, I have had 4 panic attacks, vomited as soon as I got home from work last night, and when I woke up this morning, I was shaking uncontrollably and could barely stand up from exhaustion.
You probably know at least one person who suffers from anxiety/panic disorder. More often than not, unless you actually witness someone have a panic attack, you would never know. Even if you do witness an attack, you might not ever know. I don't pretend to be an expert about anxiety disorders. I am hardly even an expert on my own. All I can do is share my experiences and try to get better. It's a process...just like everything in life.
