Song of the Day: Breathing Underwater by Metric
I have spoken about this before. You may recall that I wrote a series of posts called "An Unspoken Torment of the Mind" back in August, after news broke about Robin Williams' suicide. The post today will cover a similar topic, and it will be, if that were possible, a bit more personal.
Today I had my first major anxiety attack in over a year. I had forgotten the feeling, and I had not missed it.
Probably - definitely - I should have seen it coming. It's been worse lately, my obsessive compulsive disorder; it crept up on me. It caught me unaware. It was the monster under the bed, and I had lulled myself into the false belief that I had exorcised it for good. But this monster is never gone for good, can never be fully exorcised. It can be scared away for a while, or it can take a nap. But its return, its reawakening, is inevitable.
My baseline anxiety level has slowly been creeping up over the past few weeks. I'd say it began with the awareness that my car was dying, one part after another breaking and needing extensive repair. Then the car died at the beginning of February, and my financial situation became a bit tighter as a result. Hunting for cars is not something I enjoy. I don't enjoy the prospect of paying off a car so soon after i was finally free of payments on the last one. I don't enjoy the thought of insurance. As someone who has mild social anxiety, I certainly do not enjoy dealing with car salesmen.
It started with not sleeping as well; I couldn't seem to get comfortable, and when that wasn't the issue, my mind was abuzz with a storm of thoughts and worries. I've been sleeping less and less, switching sides on the bed and trying that instead. It worked for a few days. Then came the irritability.
The way irritability works for me is that it comes as a result of thinking about something, or being focused on something of utmost importance to me. When I'm anxious, irritability comes because I'm focused on being anxious, without any real direction to my thoughts. So even though I don't know what's on my mind, being interrupted or disturbed causes problems. I've also found that my irritability also makes me obstinate.
I'm sorry to Amanda for the above.
About two weeks ago, I started poking and prodding again. I started checking my armpit, which is the same it's always been, but I convince myself there is something deeply wrong. I started checking it multiple times a day. I started checking to see if I had a hernia.
Then came the fixation on the disease of choice for my hypochondriasis: cancer. Name a cancer, and you will undoubtedly have found a cancer that I've thought about recently. Self examination and self diagnosis has returned to my list of daily routines. As I write this, I'm fighting the urge to go to the bathroom and examine the glands in my neck and arms.
Last week, my focus at work started lagging, and that continues to be the state I'm in. I can't even decide what music to focus on this week - something that usually is a sure sign that a major anxiety attack is coming. I am never at a loss for music.
This week I have the physical symptoms: the dizzy spells, the tunnel vision, the nausea, the fatigue - because being constantly anxious is taxing and exhausting. I have headaches and muscle aches and body aches. These physical symptoms serve to, of course, exacerbate the issue.
I've been private and quiet about this, trying not to broadcast my growing anxiety, fooling myself into thinking I'm fine. Because I'm supposed to be better, and I'm supposed to be fixed. That's the feeling that sucks: that feeling that I should be past this.
It's weird; that feeling when you realize holy cow. This is an anxiety attack. You don't panic more when you realize it - at least not all the time. No, somehow, the realization is the calmest moment of the anxiety attack. You have the shortness of breath (in my case, I'll actually stop breathing for seconds at a time, as if holding my breath will make an anxiety attack go away like hiccups), you have the dizziness, the nausea, the tunnel vision. Your heart pounds and/or races (in my case, my heart doesn't race, but it pounds and thumps, a fist knocking on my ribcage). But the moment you realize what's happening you find clarity. Then the hell continues.
So I was sitting at my desk at work this morning, and something must have triggered me, because it all came down on me in a rush, and I felt alone. And I felt scared, and embarrassed.
Go away, I thought. Leave me in peace.
But the monster did not leave me in peace. It tore at my psyche instead, and I sat rooted at my desk, staring at my computer screen, and waiting. I knew what this was, and I knew I had to ride it out. You can only ride these things out.
A friend and coworker came out to ask me something - honest to God I could not tell you what she asked me - and I gave an answer while on the inside I was like Dear Lord, why now? It must have read on my face, because she asked if I was okay, because I looked pale and sick. And then I had that crystallizing moment and I said, as calmly as I could manage, "I think I'm having an anxiety attack." She sprang into action, grabbed me water, encouraged me to breathe, and talked me through it, all very quietly and privately so as not to draw too much attention to the matter. I think it's that last bit for which I am most grateful.
I was lucky enough to be noticed, and to receive some help, and to come out of it. And I am so grateful to my friend.
Unfortunately I have the rest of the day ahead, and I have an event to attend in which I need to put on my best face. After an anxiety attack, I'm always tired, and embarrassed, and want to cry, and want some space to myself to sort through what's on my mind. Some days, though, you just need to file it away and move on.
I've never been good at compartmentalizing.
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