Fear. I am brimming over with the stuff. It’s this sharp coil that starts in my chest, dark and wispy, the beginnings of a hurricane. It swirls and burrows into any gap it can find and then all of a sudden constricts, squeezing my lungs and making them vibrate. My breath is ragged and the reassuring sound I look for is too hard to be found right now. My body’s defenses try to solve this by flooding my system with adrenaline. I can feel this army of anxiety rush through my veins, making my extremities tingle and ache. The surge could result in fight, flight, freeze or fall. My defective system is partial to being paralyzed by terror; freeze it is. My vision narrows and my peripheral darkens, the panic is taking over and usurping my rational brain. Now comes the lump in my throat and the prickling of tears and my inner dialogue shouting “DO NOT CRY IN PUBLIC, ACT NORMAL, ARE THESE PEOPLE STARING? OH GOD, EVERYTHING IS POUNDING I CAN’T BREATHE HELP HELP TRY TO BREATH HELP ACT NORMAL DON’T LET THESE PEOPLE KNOW WHATS GOING ON.” I can feel every single boom of my heart beat as it slams against my chest. My vision syncs up with the beating and zooms in and out on each count. And then after what feels like an eternity – but is more likely two or three minutes, I can feel it start to lessen the tiniest bit amidst the sheer fearfulness. I can find my breathing and remember to relax my tongue, my shoulders and try to focus on a single body part rather than the whole. Slowly ebbing, my fingers still consumed by the adrenaline and now I’m exhausted. The tornado that just swept through my body, controlling it’s responses have wiped me out. We are not in Kansas as we knew it, and for a brief moment after it ends, we are over the rainbow. Everything is back in full Technicolor and I am yawning. Cruelly, like a crushing wave, this isn’t always the end of the storm, but rather the eye, before throwing you back in again and again.
I had my first panic attack at ten. It was the scariest moment I had ever experienced and I thought I was dying. I was entirely paralyzed by fear, so much so I couldn’t even call out for my parents. I honestly thought I was dying. I didn’t really experience many more over the years, the odd one here and there, until I was around nineteen. Various stresses would set them off, but I had never, until last year, had a panic attack in public. All of mine previously had been contained to my home, often before/during/as I woke from sleep. Last year was the hardest year of my entire life. I was on edge constantly and dealing with a lot being the main carer for my mum. I wasn’t sleeping much and always on high alert in case I had to spring into action. It took it’s toll and whilst I thought I was coping just fine, my panic attacks would indicate just the opposite.
The thing lots of people often don’t realise is that these anxiety attacks aren’t always an immediate response to something that person finds stressful. I often (unhealthily) shove things down to deal with at another time, resulting in an episode the next day or when I’m asleep and my brain is attempting to fix itself. Unfortunately, mental health still has a massive stigma which leads to misinformation and narrow minded thinking. A lot of people who don’t suffer from such attacks cannot understand why trivial things to them can cause such a reaction in us, the worriers. Everyday tasks can cause me to be saturated by anxiety. Things most people wouldn’t have to even think about – talking to the cashier, phoning the bank or the doctors, even the mere thought at having to do these things and my hands fill with adrenaline. In general I am a rational person, but when the terror takes control I can no longer find the sense to talk myself down for a while.
Anxiety is not just something the teenagers of today throw about and people who get nervous when taking exams or riding a roller coaster use, it is a very real and prevalent presence in my everyday life. “There is no point in worrying”, I can, rationally and logically understand this sentence, however, if you live with anxiety you will know that it isn’t rational. You cannot reason with fear. Panic consumes everything like a rampaging fire.
I don’t have an issue admitting that I suffer with anxiety. If I can help one person feel less alone in their struggle, that would be great. Being someone that has anxiety also doesn’t mean that I cannot handle hearing your issues or worries. I am not fragile, my brain just works on double time and misinterprets the danger analysis it carries out on various situations.
I have seen a lot of negative press recently about those that suffer with anxiety and depression. I thought I would wade in and throw my twopence worth into the ring. I hope this helps those that aren’t dealing with anxiety daily to better understand, even if it’s a little, what happens internally for me at least.
Should you have any questions, you can leave them anonymously, if you wish, in the comments section.
(I do not own the anxiety text post image).
Belle of the Bluegrass 