I am PANICKING persevering
A few days after my last post, which was on Obsessive Compulsive Disorder with germs, I went to a restaurant with my family. It was a pretty nice one so I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to start moving forward with my experiment. The menus weren't sticky - and I didn't see any fingerprints - so I told myself they were washed regularly. The table was clean so I told myself they washed it thoroughly every time they cleared it. The silverware was just laid on the table, not on a napkin like any other restaurant! JUST LAID ON THE TABLE! Now normally that would freak me out and I'd be cringing every time I took a bite, but this was NOT going to be one of those days. It was a booth seat and I was stuck against the wall. My parents were blocking potential escape to the 'safe haven' of the bathroom with the glorious sink and the blessed hand soap. I was glad. It was easier for me that way. After we ordered our food I asked my family if they noticed a difference. "You haven't washed your hands!" all five of them said. They were all so proud of me and so supportive. Not in a condescending way, because they know how hard this is for me. I put on a confident grin, took a deep breath and slapped my palms on the table (something I would normally NEVER do) and wiped them around. Yeah. I was totally showing off.
Why am I giving you all these tiny details? The answer is simple: because I can. Also it might help you get an idea of what goes on in my head when I'm in these situations. But mostly because I can. If you keep reading this it's on you.
Anyway, I survived. So that's good.
I was SO EXCITED by what I did that I came straight home and began writing an extremely positive post. I was on a bipolar manic high. No more depression! If I could do that I could do anything! Never mind the slight panicky feeling in my chest or the tense feeling in my shoulders. That was just the excitement!
I passed out in the middle of writing and woke the next day feeling a little less stoked. The high was wearing off. I was crashing. But I didn't want to admit it to myself because I knew what came next: panic, depression, rage, or numbness. Take your pick. I'm still not sure how it works. So I tried to drag it out as long as possible.
Slapping my hands on the table reminded me of a river rafting trip I went on this last summer. About halfway down the river we pulled to the side and went cliff diving. I had never been cliff diving before. It was really high. I know it's probably sad, but that feeling I got when I decided to touch the table was akin to standing on the edge of the cliff. I was scared to death but resolved. I knew if I didn't jump right away it wasn't going to happen. Moving my hands down was the act of falling, screaming the whole way. I was so scared but so excited! Then afterward I was glad I jumped. Even though hitting the water gave me the wedgie of a lifetime and I almost lost my shorts, it was worth it! I felt I had accomplished something.
That's what touching the table was for me. Sans wedgie...
But - of course there's a 'but' - all of this progress I've been making is in no way easy. On the exterior I've been doing everything in my power to seem calm and confident. I'm not putting on the act for anyone but myself. I figure the more confident I act the more confident I'll feel and the easier this journey will become. But all of this confidence is just the calm surface of the water I'm treading, hiding the deadly undertow of panic. It has been welling up inside of me. The more exposure to germs I force myself into the more I feel that undertow trying to pull me down into never-ending darkness. It often becomes hard to breathe (how's that for dramatic?). Don't get me wrong; I really do feel a sense of accomplishment. Sometimes I think to myself "maybe I can actually do this!" But under the surface the water is churning.
I had a panic attack. This is going to be a little difficult to describe, but I'll do my best. As you read this please remember that this is how I personally experience these things. Panic attacks can be completely different for other people. For me the cause can be a number of things, all of which are internal. The trigger is usually internal as well. The cause is a build up of stressors that can be anything from negative self-talk to something subconscious that takes a long time to sort out. I was with someone for over three years with regular panic attacks before I realized what the problem was. But that's another post altogether.
It starts with elevated heart rate and shallow breathing. My face and neck become flushed and warm. My senses grow stronger. If I'm in a public place like a classroom, restaurant, or store I'm suddenly able to hear every word of every conversation nearby, until I'm sure they're all screaming at me and it makes my head throb. Even white noise feels like an assault, and I know the people in the room are going to kill me. Scents become stronger. My eyes start moving rapidly in every direction, and suddenly I'm able to see more detail. Color is richer and light is far too bright. The increase in stimulus becomes too much so I cover my face and plug my ears. The shaking starts and quickly becomes uncontrollable. The tears start pouring. I can't stop them. My breathing becomes so fast that my chest hurts and I'm sure I'm going to die. I can hardly breathe anymore and it feels like I'm drowning, but all I can do is let it run its course.
I don't feel strong enough to swim against the undertow of panic, and there is no way to tame it. What mortal can tame the ocean? Crap! Now I need a new metaphor. One that at least gives me the potential to calm the panic.
I've learned that standing still, staring at one spot and focusing solely on my breathing can keep the panic attacks from becoming full blown. But that's only when I catch my body's cues beforehand. Sometimes I'm not fast enough. If possible I also go to a quiet place and sit or lie down, hug my knees, cover my face and hum a random tune. But the best thing I've found is positive self-talk. I repeat over and over out loud to myself "You're okay. It's okay. It'll be over soon. You'll get through this. You've got this." Until I believe it. Doing this keeps me from screaming at the top of my lungs, or clawing at my neck.
I'm agoraphobic, and I want to hide in my room, away from anything and everything that could potentially harm me. What I really want to do right now is watch the rest of "Chuck" on Netflix, or play Skyrim until my eyes bleed and my brain turns to pudding, or get lost in the newest Odd Thomas book by Dean Koontz, or finally finish the Wheel of Time series. But I haven't done that. I still refuse to have my life dictated by this weakness. At least that's what I'm telling myself. I've gotten used to using affirmations to keep me going. This positive self-talk motivates me. It has become habit for me to say "Yeah! This is going to be awesome! We can do it!" as if I'm two people. Maybe that's to remind myself that I have guardian angels. It gives me strength. I like knowing I'm not going at this alone.
So despite all of this panic I'm not letting myself revert to where I was three weeks ago. I've taken two steps forward. It's time to take one step back. I have too many other stressors in my life right now to keep ignoring my body when it tells me I'm going too far. I'm still moving forward and grabbing door handles. I'm still going to be less OCD at restaurants. I just might not be at the same level as everyone else. It's a journey. As soon as finals week is over I'm going to try taking another step forward. I just have to pace myself. It takes a while to retrain your body to respond differently to a perceived threat. If I overdo it I will crash. That's realistic. I'm not Superwoman. Then where will I be? I'll be Howard Hughes in The Aviator sitting in the private theater room naked, peeing in milk jars, repeating phrases over and over again. I've already done the repeating before. Trust me, it's no fun. I think I'll try to avoid the peepee/nakey part...
As always, comments are welcome. It's easier to comment from a computer than a phone for some reason.
Wish me luck!
Why am I giving you all these tiny details? The answer is simple: because I can. Also it might help you get an idea of what goes on in my head when I'm in these situations. But mostly because I can. If you keep reading this it's on you.
Anyway, I survived. So that's good.
I was SO EXCITED by what I did that I came straight home and began writing an extremely positive post. I was on a bipolar manic high. No more depression! If I could do that I could do anything! Never mind the slight panicky feeling in my chest or the tense feeling in my shoulders. That was just the excitement! I passed out in the middle of writing and woke the next day feeling a little less stoked. The high was wearing off. I was crashing. But I didn't want to admit it to myself because I knew what came next: panic, depression, rage, or numbness. Take your pick. I'm still not sure how it works. So I tried to drag it out as long as possible.
Slapping my hands on the table reminded me of a river rafting trip I went on this last summer. About halfway down the river we pulled to the side and went cliff diving. I had never been cliff diving before. It was really high. I know it's probably sad, but that feeling I got when I decided to touch the table was akin to standing on the edge of the cliff. I was scared to death but resolved. I knew if I didn't jump right away it wasn't going to happen. Moving my hands down was the act of falling, screaming the whole way. I was so scared but so excited! Then afterward I was glad I jumped. Even though hitting the water gave me the wedgie of a lifetime and I almost lost my shorts, it was worth it! I felt I had accomplished something.
That's what touching the table was for me. Sans wedgie...
But - of course there's a 'but' - all of this progress I've been making is in no way easy. On the exterior I've been doing everything in my power to seem calm and confident. I'm not putting on the act for anyone but myself. I figure the more confident I act the more confident I'll feel and the easier this journey will become. But all of this confidence is just the calm surface of the water I'm treading, hiding the deadly undertow of panic. It has been welling up inside of me. The more exposure to germs I force myself into the more I feel that undertow trying to pull me down into never-ending darkness. It often becomes hard to breathe (how's that for dramatic?). Don't get me wrong; I really do feel a sense of accomplishment. Sometimes I think to myself "maybe I can actually do this!" But under the surface the water is churning.
I had a panic attack. This is going to be a little difficult to describe, but I'll do my best. As you read this please remember that this is how I personally experience these things. Panic attacks can be completely different for other people. For me the cause can be a number of things, all of which are internal. The trigger is usually internal as well. The cause is a build up of stressors that can be anything from negative self-talk to something subconscious that takes a long time to sort out. I was with someone for over three years with regular panic attacks before I realized what the problem was. But that's another post altogether.
It starts with elevated heart rate and shallow breathing. My face and neck become flushed and warm. My senses grow stronger. If I'm in a public place like a classroom, restaurant, or store I'm suddenly able to hear every word of every conversation nearby, until I'm sure they're all screaming at me and it makes my head throb. Even white noise feels like an assault, and I know the people in the room are going to kill me. Scents become stronger. My eyes start moving rapidly in every direction, and suddenly I'm able to see more detail. Color is richer and light is far too bright. The increase in stimulus becomes too much so I cover my face and plug my ears. The shaking starts and quickly becomes uncontrollable. The tears start pouring. I can't stop them. My breathing becomes so fast that my chest hurts and I'm sure I'm going to die. I can hardly breathe anymore and it feels like I'm drowning, but all I can do is let it run its course.
Image from: http://mariovittone.com/2010/05/154/
I don't feel strong enough to swim against the undertow of panic, and there is no way to tame it. What mortal can tame the ocean? Crap! Now I need a new metaphor. One that at least gives me the potential to calm the panic.
I've learned that standing still, staring at one spot and focusing solely on my breathing can keep the panic attacks from becoming full blown. But that's only when I catch my body's cues beforehand. Sometimes I'm not fast enough. If possible I also go to a quiet place and sit or lie down, hug my knees, cover my face and hum a random tune. But the best thing I've found is positive self-talk. I repeat over and over out loud to myself "You're okay. It's okay. It'll be over soon. You'll get through this. You've got this." Until I believe it. Doing this keeps me from screaming at the top of my lungs, or clawing at my neck.
I'm agoraphobic, and I want to hide in my room, away from anything and everything that could potentially harm me. What I really want to do right now is watch the rest of "Chuck" on Netflix, or play Skyrim until my eyes bleed and my brain turns to pudding, or get lost in the newest Odd Thomas book by Dean Koontz, or finally finish the Wheel of Time series. But I haven't done that. I still refuse to have my life dictated by this weakness. At least that's what I'm telling myself. I've gotten used to using affirmations to keep me going. This positive self-talk motivates me. It has become habit for me to say "Yeah! This is going to be awesome! We can do it!" as if I'm two people. Maybe that's to remind myself that I have guardian angels. It gives me strength. I like knowing I'm not going at this alone.
So despite all of this panic I'm not letting myself revert to where I was three weeks ago. I've taken two steps forward. It's time to take one step back. I have too many other stressors in my life right now to keep ignoring my body when it tells me I'm going too far. I'm still moving forward and grabbing door handles. I'm still going to be less OCD at restaurants. I just might not be at the same level as everyone else. It's a journey. As soon as finals week is over I'm going to try taking another step forward. I just have to pace myself. It takes a while to retrain your body to respond differently to a perceived threat. If I overdo it I will crash. That's realistic. I'm not Superwoman. Then where will I be? I'll be Howard Hughes in The Aviator sitting in the private theater room naked, peeing in milk jars, repeating phrases over and over again. I've already done the repeating before. Trust me, it's no fun. I think I'll try to avoid the peepee/nakey part...
As always, comments are welcome. It's easier to comment from a computer than a phone for some reason.
Wish me luck!
No comments:
Post a Comment