30.12.09 Poisoned Oranage Juice

So to make blogging valuable for me (yes, for my own selfish reasons), I guess I should start way, way, way back to the beginning and drive into how I came to where I am today. Everyone who has ever experienced a panic attack remembers their first one. Losing their panic attack virginity is a life changing moment. A momentous occasion that will never be forgotten, but not a “life changing moment” in a romantic sense, like you see on the movies. My very first panic attack happened in the Summer when I was 18, home alone. I was half way through slurping down an orange juice in a way that teenagers only know how. And then it hit me, with no warning, no “easing” into it (if that is even possible). The power behind the wave of panic terrified me. This was bigger than anything I had previously experienced. The blood had rushed from my head. I could hear my heart thumping through my ears. The sense of something terrible pending raced through my brain. I was dying. I was sure of it. I didn’t know why, but I was definitely dying. Gulping back air, my thoughts switched.

Okay, maybe I’m not dying. Maybe someone is in the house.

I scanned the room wondering if there was intruder in the house and that somehow I miraculously had acquired super powers like Spider Man to detect danger. Nope. No one in the room. Panting for air I paced up and down the kitchen, my bare feet slapping against the cool tiles again and again. I felt out of control, like I was completely drunk, but without the fun and silly time before you actually get drunk. After pacing up on down the kitchen 3 times, which felt like an absolute eternity, I called my Mum, who lived 2 hours drive away.

Mum will know what to do.

With one shaking hand, I picked up the receiver and the other I stabbed at the key pad, desperate to hear her voice.

“Hello”
“Mum, it’s me. Something’s wrong”
“What do you mean?”
“I feel sick. Something is wrong. I can’t breathe. I feel sick”
“What sort of sick. Food poisoning?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’m scared Mum.”
“Scared of what?”
“I don’t know. But something’s wrong and I’m scared and I feel sick.”
“Where’s your brother?”
“He’s not here. He’s gone out”
“How about I call him and get him to go home and help you out? You sure you haven’t eaten anything off?”
“No I don’t think so. This is different. I can’t breathe, and I feel sick and I’m frightened”

I was frightened. I was frightened that I was crazy and that the bloody orange juice had poisoned me somehow.

I guess looking back on that day, yes, my thoughts were extreme, but in a sense that was the end of my innocence to panic attacks and anxiety as I knew it. Life since then has been different. Life has been wonderful in so many ways and I am blessed to be surrounded by extraordinary people who have allowed me such interesting experiences.

But life is different.

Even after 11 years it is still different. I am not cured of anxiety or panic attacks. I manage them. I don’t really manage them well to be honest. But from now on, I’m not going to be alone in my thoughts, alone in my panic. I want to share with the world the experiences of anxiety and panic and I’m inviting you to share the journey to my recovery. Hopefully, with progress I can inspire you too to reach for help, and manage anxiety and panic attacks well.