Anxiety W/ a Spin

I always thought my first experience with a panic attack was when I was around the age of 10. My mom recently informed me otherwise.

Apparently one night when I was at the tender age of about five or six I ran through an apartment full of my parents’ company screaming “I don’t know who I am, I don’t know where I am! Help me!“

My recollection of my original attack was a lot less dramatic...at first. It quickly spiraled into my mother’s version of me flailing about the house begging for help.

My family had a summer house at the Jersey Shore and while it’s the home of favorite childhood memories it’s also embedded in my brain as the place where my future misery would have its grand entrance.

I had just walked into the bungalow after swimming all day. The only one home of the 13 occupants was my grandmother. She was cooking us her Sunday gravy, not sauce. Her days at the Keansburg beach now consisted of cooking the crabs not catching them like she had done 20+ years ago.

I was particularly tired so I threw myself on the bed wanting to get a quick nap in before dinner. The hope was I’d dream about that gorgeous 15yr old boy I saw standing on line at the diving boards.

What entered my head though wasn’t a olive skinned bad boy teenager. Rather it a voice as loud and as clear as my grandfather’s was yelling, “Shut the door! You’re letting out all the God damn air conditioning!”

It boomed over and over again, “You have cancer, you’re dying.” “You have cancer, you’re dying”

The trunk of my body got ice cold, my lips went numb, the palms of my hands and bottoms of my feet started sweating profusely. I jumped up and ran into the living room screaming help just as the rest of the family was getting home. Fade to black. Me, not the scene.

I woke up to an oxygen mask on my face, a blood pressure cuff around my arm and a circle of very concerned, very confused faces looking down at me.

I don’t recall having another attack until a couple of years later but the safety of a carefree childhood had begun to unravel.

Whether the very first attack was at five, ten or somewhere in between doesn’t matter. The fact that I’m living on my own supporting two teenaged daughters does. Why? My fight with anxiety got so bad at one point I couldn’t leave my parents’ home. It was terrifying to even think of being independent yet here I am on my own hoping to start a new phase of my life.

So, Anxiety w/ a Spin. Where in the hell does the spin fit in?

Figuratively I mention spin because whenever I read or speak to someone about the pitfalls of panic it’s all serious business and much appreciated advice and tips.

When someone comes to me I tend to lean torwards the funnier side of my experiences. That being said I realize having this condition is no joke as so many people suffer from it. I just find for me laughing about it takes the steam out of it. It puts a little spin on it if you will.

And the literal meaning of the word? I’ll just say this. I feel I finally have a good handle on my fears. This must not have been in the plan so the powers that be have decided “we’ll get her. Let’s see how she likes severe bouts of Vertigo.”

Now I’m not so afraid to go out and enjoy life as much as I’m to dizzy to go out. Maybe the two go together.

I’ve gone through a lot of emotional, scary and often hilarious situations on the journey of life with my pal anxiety. Some of those experiences may help you. Some may cause you to look at things differently. Some may just make you laugh. You’ll just have to read my next chapter.