The Ins and Outs of Panic Attacks

According to the Canadian Mental Health Association, approximately 4 % of the population will experience Panic Disorder in their lifetime. I am one of them. People with Panic Disorder experience unexpected and repeated panic attacks. These attacks are characterized by an intense fear or feeling of discomfort and can include the following symptoms (according to anxietycanada.com):

• racing or pounding heart
• sweating
• shaking or trembling
• shortness of breath or feelings of being smothered
• feeling of choking
• chest pain or discomfort
• chills or hot flashes
• nausea or upset stomach
• dizziness or lightheadedness
• a sense of things being unreal or feeling detached from oneself
• numbness or tingling sensations
• fear of losing control or “going crazy”
• fear of dying

After experiencing one of these attacks this morning, I was prompted to write about it because what you see and what I feel are two completely different things.

What You See

If I’m out and about when a panic attack hits, what you’ll see is, quite honestly, an impatient, self-entitled, grumbling bitch drinking water from her bottle.

You’ll see me start to shuffle and fidget. You’ll see me drinking a lot of water. I’ll probably take off my jacket or tug at my clothes. You’ll hear me start to mumble various complaints (hurry the fuck up, grandma, this is the Post Office, not storytime; what the fuck is the holdup?; Jesus Christ, will you move it!). You’ll see a 100-pound woman trying to make herself very large, adopting a wide stance and holding her arms out from her sides. And you’ll see my face harden into a threatening, unfriendly glare. You’ll make sure to give me a wide berth, very, very wide because who wants to be anywhere near that type of unpleasantness.

If I’m at home, or in a more intimate setting, chatting with a friend or just hanging out, you might notice that I seem distracted, like I’ve stopped listening to you. Then, I’m gone. I may say, “nope,” or I may say nothing at all, but I will get up abruptly and leave. Rude, no?

It looks rude for sure, but I honestly don’t want or mean to be. During these attacks, there’s a terror running through me that takes over.

What I Feel

I can run the same errands, participate in the same activities or go the same places 100 times without incident and then out of the blue, BAM, it’ll hit me. These attacks hit randomly without rhyme or reason and without warning.

The first thing I’ll notice is that I feel like I can’t take a deep breath. No matter how deeply I inhale, it’s like my lungs won’t inflate. I’ll start to crave water. It’s as if on some level, I think that I can somehow get the oxygen I need by drinking copious amounts of water. I bring a bottle of water with me everywhere I go.

Then, an intense heat begins to rise inside me and it feels like I’m trembling from the inside out. With that heat comes rage. It’s an irrational rage with no specific target, but at the same time, everybody’s a target. Everyone and everything is moving too slow while my mind races. Then we add in some good old fashioned suspicion, everybody’s a potential threat. I don’t want any of you near me. No, it doesn’t make sense, but it’s how I feel, hot, trembling, thirsty, trying to swallow air, filled with rage and suspicion.

I know once the rage and suspicion hit, I have to act fast. I used to be able to push through it, to force it down just enough to get through whatever task I was trying to accomplish. Not anymore. I’m not sure why, but after years of fighting it, I guess in some ways it won. So, I split. I leave. I flee the scene. Fight turns to flight and I’m outta there!

I head directly home, still terrified, still hot, thirsty and trembling and get into bed. I immediately get myself into a child’s pose. I’m not sure why, but for some reason, it helps me breathe better. Once my breathing feels normal again, I roll over and tuck the blankets in tightly around me, snug enough to prevent my insides from spilling out. I’m exhausted by this time and as I come down, I’ll doze off for a bit.

I suppose what you see from the outside is a reflection of the hell I’m going through, in those moments, on the inside. These attacks can be debilitating and isolating. Thankfully, the handful of people that know me well understand what it is and love me anyway. ;)

Originally published on Medium.com