My Personal Panic Attack Story
In 1990 I was only 19 years old. I felt the full weight of the world on my shoulders as bomb after bomb exploded in my life.
- My father emerged as an alcoholic to enter AA, (I never even had the slightest idea he had a drinking problem ... I thought all Dad's behaved that way ... seriously!)
- My parents got seperated, and eventually divorced. It was less than amicable.
- I had just gotten married (with much uncertainty!) to the father of my son, born a 2 1/2 years prior, and two months premature.
- I had just given birth to my second little boy.
- My husband and I got slapped with a reality check, in a matter of days realizing that we were well below poverty level and barely making it.
- The Gulf War was in full swing, my sisters husband was in Saudi Arabia and out of contact for months at a time, she was devastated and I lived life fearing that the draft would take my husband away.
I thought that I was handling everything magnificently, of course. The headaches I was starting to get everyday could have only come from the fact that I needed glasses, I thought. Well, I was wrong about that, and everything else for that matter.
On the 4th of July that year, we went to all of the tense family picnics, engaged in a few arguments with siblings, you know, the usual picnic fare. At the fireworks that night, it was more evident to me than ever before the state of my financial level...we went to the "posh spot"... the lake at Mt. Gretna, amidst hundreds of well to do citizens, and sat there in our shabby clothing, the kids getting out of control ... it was horrible. I felt like a freak.
As the "big moment" approached, I started to feel rather nervous, and my headache was so bad I thought I was having a migraine. Shortly after the first explosion of fireworks, I began hyperventilating. (Of course, I didn't know I was hyperventilating, just that I was totally freaking out.) My thoughts were racing, my heart was pounding. My eyes wouldn't focus ... I wanted to run. I didn't know to where, but I wanted to run there quickly. I picked up my kids, told my husband to take me to the car ... and I ran through the crowd, oblivious of what anyone might be thinking of me.
Once I finally made it to the car, I sat inside not knowing wether I wanted to vomit or pass out. Did I want to sit, or did I want to stand outside of the car. I didn't know. I just didn't know. I compromised by hanging out of the window and then staring at the dangling keys in the ignition, back and forth. There were ambulances parked nearby and my husband offered to go get one of the technicians. Well, that just made me even more scared. I ended up in the emergency room that night. I layed there for six hours, got all kinds of bloodwork done, all sorts of tests ... and they found nothing. Nobody was really nice to me, and after about an hour of laying there, I felt pretty stupid and wanted to go home.
I was sent home with a "post partum depression" written on my bill, and referred to my family doctor. I did go to see him, and he agreed with the PPD, prescribed Valium, and sent me on my drowsy way.
Months later, I hadn't improved. I began a frantic search for a better doctor. My half-sister came forward to reveal that she, too, suffered the same thing ... PANIC ATTACKS! Finally, a name to the ailment that plagued me for so long. I went to see my sister's doctor. I was put on Imipramine and Buspar. The Imipramine made me fat ... I mean FAT! It never really helped my panic though.
Finally, I found a new doctor group. The first time I went there, they didn't even see that I required a real doctor for treatment, they appointed a "Certified Physicians Assistant" to me. I felt cheated. He tried to help, but after failing miserably for nearly a year and watching me turn into a hypochondriac, he lost his temper with me and on a day that I needed him the most ... he blew up on me and sent me home. I think I had a nervous breakdown. I slept for three days. I shook constantly, I couldn't eat. It was horrible and frightening.
I went back and told them I wanted to see a real doctor ... and that's where this story gets a little bit more happy. I was given a female doctor, Dr. Carol Sears, and she began treating me with xanax, as needed. She let me talk to her for nearly an hour at a time. I always left feeling a little hopeful, something I hadn't felt in years. Finally, she suggested I try a medication called Zoloft, and it changed my life. It gave me a chance to be able to experience my life again. Courage to attempt things I hadn't in so long ... shopping by myself, playing with my kids, being involved in anything and everything I'd denied myself for fear of the panic. It was as though I had the panic would rise, but something inside of me would beat it down, giving me the strength to carry on, and the opportunity to deal with situations in my life that had gotten out of control.
I thank God for Dr. Sears. She's has literally saved my life. Where that woman got her patience, I'll never know. I'm just grateful that she stuck with me.
These days, I am better. I'm still fighting back the hypochondria that lurks, seemingly forever in the back of my mind, still fighting my family, who has used me as a doormat my whole life, and fighting for my right to live a happy life ... but the point is that I AM doing it when before I couldn't even think about it without panicking.
I realize now that the fear of panicking is what worries me the most, and when I can see that, when I know that, it makes it easier to see that I'm not battling anything except a fear ... and once you duel it out with a fear (like a dragon), you see that you win everytime. You just have to find a way to stand up to it and "draw your sword". Funny, usually when you do that, you see that you don't even have to fight it ... you can walk right through it because it doesn't really exist. You can win everytime with positive thinking, calm breathing, and okay, maybe even some help with the right medication.
It put me on a path of developing a better relationship with myself, and I know that I won't always be on the Zoloft, so that makes me feel good, too. I'm learning more and more about myself everyday, developing strong traits that will help me when I get to the point where I can do it without the Zoloft.
Always know that you aren't alone in this battle, there are so many people out there who are kind enough to offer their support and not want any compensation. Just remember to thank them.
January 2002 Update
It's been five years now that I've had this website up and running so I thought you all deserved an update.
Ah, so many things change, don't they? Time passes and with bad panic attacks, some days you aren't sure whether the next day will come or not. Trust me in that the next day comes, and brings with it the reality of every day living. I feel as if I was so young when I wrote what is above this update. My children were tiny, my hair had no gray in it, I was only 25 then.
I am no longer taking Zoloft - I switched to Paxil for eighteen months and it worked great, I mean really wonderfully. Better than the Zoloft, but like the zoloft, it, too, brought more weight gain. I will tell you that Paxil gave me the courage and self esteem that I needed to fix some major problem areas of my life. I left my husband and supported my two children on my own, lived alone, fought to not cry at night out of loneliness, worked really hard, and then one day met an incredible man who I am now engaged to. I lost my father the day after I moved away from home - I moved to from Pennsylvania to Washington, I live in Seattle now - and so I had to fly across the country four times through all of that dragging the dark pain of losing my daddy with me the whole time. I'm planning on hopefully moving back to the east coast sometime soon - I surely do miss my family.
I switched from Paxil to Celexa about six months ago and it works just as well, thankfully, a bit of weight gain, but the side effects are a for the most part less than any other antidepressant I've ever taken. The switch from Paxil to Celexa was a bit rocky, and I needed extra xanax during it, but finally I came through it feeling great. So many bad things have happened, the loss of my father, losing my marriage, my home, transferring my life to a foreign part of the country, having family members steal from me and put me in debt so far I never thought I'd see the light of day, a terrible earthquake, 2 tornado's - but also, so much good has happened, and I'm so glad I can see the good now instead of focusing on the bad. I have my children, my fiance, a very happy home, and alot of love in my life.
I never thought I'd make it this far in life - I often thought that panic attacks would be the end of me, but you know - as you go through life, and you learn more about how your body reacts in certain situations, you change how you feel about your anxiety. Sure, the attacks are still scary - but not like they were at first, because I have full trust in the xanax that I still use as needed, and I have a very supportive family now. I knew that there was no way I'd ever evolve out of agoraphobia and fear every day unless I made major changes inside and outside of me - I made those changes and it worked. I'm doing, really - great, for the first time in my life. Hard to believe.
This website has been an overwhelming success, it has brought so much to me...a sense of purpose, a sense of kinship, I love when people write to me, and although I don't always have time to keep up with my email, I love to hear from everyone. Thanks for being here for me, you great people are the most major part of why I've come this far and I thank you enormously for that.
I guess we'll see what the next five years brings and I'll update you again. :) Be well!
