Living With Panic Disorder

It's been months since I first started this blog, and I never knew what it was going to become. I guess I assumed people would actually read it, or a common theme would come out of it. Maybe it just became a public outlet for me to write. Though it may not look like it on here, I actually write a lot. Almost daily.

I have a book. It's my book. Some people might call it a journal or a diary and maybe it is. I mean, that is what it is, but I don't like calling it that. It sounds incredibly childish and superficial and stupid. It's not like "Dear Diary, this is my super secret crush blah, blah, blah..." or anything. Well, that's a lie. Of course I write about love and my romantic endeavors and fantasies, but I write about everything. I write about it all. I write about the things I could never tell a soul, things so painful that just thinking about them now brings tears to my eyes. I draw little pictures. I scribble when I'm angry. I doodle when I'm in love. It's my book. It's my book. Sometimes, I feel like it has powers of its own and it knows things I don't. Things about life; about the whole universe. I've put so many emotions, so many stories and so much of myself onto its pages that this book has honestly become a part of me. When the pages are full, I will start a new book, but it has been about four years, and it isn't full yet. It's a big book.

I guess part of the reason my book is so important is because I have panic disorder. Over the years, I've been diagnosed with a myriad of little messy psychological disturbances, but panic disorder is the one that has been in full swing for a while. I've learned that writing (like this) calms me down tremendously. It's a way that I can let out every emotion and every thought - thoughts and emotions I can't necessarily say out loud or share with the public - which is why my book is so important. However, there are a lot of things I don't have a problem with sharing - I don't have too many secrets. So, since I'm doing my best to currently come down from an attack, I'm writing here and discussing my issue. Take it or leave it.

To begin, what is panic disorder? Well, to my understanding, panic disorder is an anxiety disorder. When you have panic disorder, you get frequent panic attacks - some are random, some are sparked by something like a phobia. Over the past two years, I've noticed some of my worst panic attacks have been socially triggered. Sure, many are random, but most come with social backing. When I realized this, I was surprised because I'm an incredibly social person. At least, that's what I've always thought. Let's face it, I love to talk - it's a problem. I talk way too much for my own good. I love making new friends and dancing and going to parties. I'm outgoing. This makes me a social person right? Well, not really. I think I talk too much when I'm nervous, and the meeting people and dancing is just surface stuff. I think inside, I'm much more private than I want to believe. I've realized that there is a large part of me that is secretly self-conscious and nervous and shy and so afraid and so paranoid and so irrational - and this is where my socially triggered panic attacks start. I think I've located the source.

I remember the night I realized my panic attacks were beginning to have a trend with social events... it was sometime in January or February 2008, I don't remember the exact date, but I remember the night well. A friend and I were figuring out our plans for the evening, driving on our way to a friend's party when I texted a guy friend of mine to see what he was up to. Let's call him... Toby? I'm just gonna change all the names in the story to make it easier. (See, talk too much) Anyways, Toby* replies and says that Luke* is having a party, and asks if I'm coming. Immediately, my irrational mind jumps to the thought that Luke (who I had a small fling with about a month prior) intentionally didn't invite me to his little soiree and that he hates me and thinks I'm a joke and all of his friends do too and Toby was just innocently telling me and probably didn't realize I was intentionally not invited. This little, immediate, paranoid delusion triggered a panic attack so awful that I had to pull the car over off of the freeway and wait for fifteen minutes before I could stop shaking. I'm not sure how this all sounds when you're reading it, but I get chills just thinking about it. It was horrible and one of the first times I ever had an uncontrollable panic attack in front of someone else. I guess that's just an example of a social trigger. It's one that means a lot to me because that was when I had this revelation that my panic disorder was getting pretty serious and had taken on more structure - if that makes sense. It probably doesn't.

What happens during a panic attack? Well, I'm gonna guess they're a little different for each individual, since everybody is different. For me, I become overwhelmed (a truly perfect word to describe it) with the most horrible feeling imaginable - fear. But it's not fear like "oh, I'm afraid of the dark" or "I'm afraid of spiders" or "I'm afraid of so-and-so breaking up with me". It's like the most intense fear that every horror you could possibly imagine is going to come true and you are terrified and angry and sad and confused all at the same time - multiplied by one thousand. When I get an attack, it's really hard to breathe or breathe normally. Sometimes I hyperventilate to the point that I almost pass out. And during the nasty ones - I shake. Sometimes uncontrollably. The shaking is incredibly restless and it's almost like an adrenaline rush - in fact, it's exactly like an adrenaline rush. The only problem is, I don't feel powerful or strong or anything - I feel the exact opposite, but now I have this overload of adrenaline that is making me shake uncontrollably. Mostly it's my hands that shake, sometimes my legs and feet. Basically, it sucks. A lot.

I get panic attacks weekly, sometimes daily? Usually they're just little ones that last about a minute or two. Every now and then,, I'll get the nasty ones. The social ones. The ones that last from minutes to hours. Writing this helps more than you could realize. During the really nasty ones, I can't even write. I can't do anything. I've been dealing with this for so long that I think I'm pretty damn good at controlling it - especially in public. The feeling still sucks.

So yeah, I have panic disorder. I get panic attacks. They aren't always socially triggered, but most of the bad ones are. There is treatment like therapy and medication and right now I'm not in treatment. My last psychiatrist wanted to put me back on Zoloft, but I don't want to be on meds all the time. Only when I need them. Xanax would be ideal. Just for the big ones. The last shrink didn't think that was a good idea but screw him, I think I know me better than anyone, and I think the xanny thing is something I should try.

Yeah, I guess that's all I have to say about that...

Any questions? Hit me up.

P.S. After I published this post, I'm extremely flattered to announce that I apparently inspired a friend of mine to write about her experiences with panic disorder.

You can check out her blog here: http://sheilamikailli.tumblr.com

:-)