Squeaky Wheel

I've been told by several people in the past couple of weeks that I am very good at hiding my anxiety.  After thinking about it for a while, I decided that those people are right.  My more casual friends have no idea that I even have a problem.  I have panic attacks in the presence of close friends and family all the time, but they never know anything about it because I keep it bottled up inside.
It occurred to me that no one can help me if they are not aware that I am having a problem.  They say "the squeaky wheel gets the grease."  Well, I haven't been very squeaky!

I am challenging myself to find the happy medium between acting like nothing is ever wrong...

Everything's fine here!

...and crying publicly every time I have a twinge of panic.

I'm afraid of EVERYTHING!

Two nights ago, Boyfriend was scheduled to leave home at 4am in order to catch a flight to Oklahoma.  I was feeling very nervous about the prospect of a panic attack between the hours of 4am and 8am that morning (the time between when Boyfriend was to leave and the time that I leave the house for work).

I decided not to hold my fear in and let it eat me from the inside out.  I called my friend, Kelly, and told her I was feeling anxious.  I asked her if she would spend the night in our guest room.  Within a few hours, Kelly was there.  What a great friend she is for coming over to make me feel better!

I know that I need to become able to spend a night alone.  I'll get there.  That wasn't the lesson I think I was supposed to learn that night though.  I learned that: 1) It's OK to ask for help and 2) There are wonderful people in my life who care enough to help me when I ask for it.

I squeaked.  Kelly greased me.  I am thankful.

Be Nice

There is very little that makes me angrier than seeing people act rudely toward folks who work with the public (who don't deserve it).

1. The person being yelled at is at work.  They can't say or do much to defend themselves while at work.  Most importantly, they cannot leave.  If you are yelling at a person at work, it's like yelling at someone in a cage.

Work/Jail.  Same thing.

2. You have no idea what is going on in that person's personal life.  As human beings, it is our duty to show kindness and compassion to one another (strangers included).

I work as an insurance agent.  Yesterday, a gentleman came in to add his son as a driver on his auto insurance policy.  The problem was that his son only had one year of driving experience.  In my state, there is a rather large surcharge for inexperienced operators (people who have had their drivers license for less than three years).  Adding this gentleman's son to his policy made his premium increase substantially.  Yelling ensued.

Customer: What do you MEAN it's going to be that much a month?!  I've never had a wreck; I pay my bills on time!  Where are MY discounts?!

Me: I'm sorry, sir, it's the inexperienced operator rate that's making the premium so high...

Customer (interrupting): HE'S NOT INEXPERIENCED!!!

Me: He only has one year of driving experience.

Customer then stormed out of my office, slamming the door behind him.

Facepalm so hard.

If you read my post from yesterday, you know that it was a really difficult day for me.  I was nervous and upset the entire day.  The last thing I needed was for someone to yell at me for something that I had zero control over.

Of course, the man yelling at me yesterday had no way of knowing what I was going through.  It is for that very reason, though, that I am so sweet and nice to cashiers, baristas, customer service representatives, etc.  I have no idea what is going on in their personal lives, so it is best to assume that everyone needs to be handled with care.

The moral of this blog post: be nice!

Look Homeward, Paxil

I am 24 years old.  I have been on Paxil for eight years.  That's one-third of my entire life.  I recently began to feel that Paxil just wasn't doing it for me anymore.  I figured that I should've be able to drive wherever I wanted anxiety-free.  I felt I should've been completely calm and collected at all times.  In my mind, Paxil was supposed to have erased panic attacks for me.  But it hadn't.  In eight years, Paxil had kept my anxiety static for the most part.  I decided it was time for a change.

I began seeing a new psychiatrist who promptly switched me from Paxil to Lexapro.  I took my dosages of Lexapro enthusiastically, knowing that I was getting better with every pill. 

First, I was feeling OK.

Then, I started feeling kind of detached from reality.

The third phase was when I began feeling anger and hatred toward everyone and everything in my path.

And I do mean everything.



I hate you.

For the past two or three days, I have been in a new phase: the anxiety and depression phase.  My anxiety has been worse than ever before, and I am anxious most of the time.  When I'm not feeling anxious, I am depressed because I have been anxious.  It's really a vicious cycle. 

Each time I panic, I wonder "Is THIS the panic attack that's going to land me in the hospital and deplete my savings account while doctors perform hundreds of unnecessary tests on me while I happily snooze away because I'm finally on medical watch and have probably been given tranquilizers and/or sedatives?"

 Or... "Is THIS going to be the panic attack that never ends and the only way to make it go away is to literally die?"

Or... "Is THIS going to be the panic attack that sends me running home to my parents, crushing any sense of independence I ever had?"

How my brain feels.

Obviously, the thoughts that I am having are less than constructive and certainly aren't doing me any good.  I realize this, and thus made an appointment to see my psychiatrist earlier today.  Together we decided that Lexapro is not the best option for me.  Tonight I will restart my Paxil regimen and begin to taper off of Lexapro.

I'm tempted to give Lexapro a great big two thumbs down, but I'm not sure I gave it enough time to really make that judgment.  I knew though, that I didn't have it within me to keep going on that drug at this time. 

It is crucial to remember that just because we try to do something and don't see it through all the way doesn't make us complete failures.  So I wasn't able to switch medications.  So what?  The important thing is that I was brave enough to try.

Spain

"I wish there was a way to know you're in the good old days before you've actually left them." - Andy, The Office


In 2009, I did a really crazy thing.  I was admitted to a study abroad program in Sevilla, Spain for the summer.  That May, I boarded an airplane with several strangers.  Little did I know that these people would become my best friends over the following six weeks.

During the six weeks that we spent in Spain, we saw more cathedrals than we ever wanted to.  We lived without air conditioning in > 100 degree weather with a woman with a penchant for leaving meat out on the counter and who never actually learned our names.  We took weekend trips to various Spanish beaches, Italy, and my personal favorite, Portugal.  We tasted all kinds of interesting foods, but we loved to meet at one particular Burger King to grab hamburgers when all we wanted was a little taste of home.

Comfort food.

I could do anything in Spain.  I went places alone.  I skipped medication dosages when I'd had a little too much red wine.  I was unafraid.

Spain's official beverage.

Why were things so different in Spain?  Why do I have a hard time sleeping at night in my own bed stateside, but I never missed a night of sleep in Europe?

I don't know the answers to these questions.  Sometimes when I'm feeling particularly anxious, I think to myself "Just pretend you're in Spain."  It kind of works, if only for a second.

My mission in life currently is to find the inner peace here that I had in Spain.

I am in Sevilla in my mind!

Finding Strength

In the midst of panic, anxiety, and depression, I have found one remedy that never fails to help: exercise!

One year ago, I completed my first triathlon.  It was a huge feat for me, considering that I had previously thought that the farthest a person could conceivably run was one mile.  I participated in the same event for the second time yesterday.  In 2012, my time was 1:15:15.  In 2013, I finished in 1:06:29.  I am very proud of my improvement.

Normally, I do the bike and run phases of triathlons with my cell phone in my pocket.  My phone is a security blanket for me.  I'm not comfortable unless I have it with me because I like to feel that I can call someone (anyone!) in case I have a panic attack.

Yesterday though, it was raining.  My fear of ruining my iPhone by having it out in the rain trumped my fear of having a panic attack and not being able to call anyone.  Therefore, I left my phone with Boyfriend at the finish line.

I finished.  I beat my time from last year.  I didn't have my cell phone.  And I didn't have a panic attack.

When I'm not doing triathlons, I just run without the swimming and biking part.  I also ride horses, and do a bit of yoga.  Here is a great anxiety relieving yoga video.  It is short and sweet, but I have found it to be highly effective. 

So, my fellow anxiety sufferers...if you're going through a tough time, obviously take your meds and go to therapy.  But also get off the couch!

 

 

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The Run That Did Not Happen

Tuesday afternoon, Boyfriend wanted to go hit golf balls at the driving range.  I am hilariously bad at hitting golf balls, so I wanted to go running instead.  Boyfriend suggested that I go running on a path at the golf course.

Initially, this seemed like a great idea.  However, when we arrived at the golf course, I realized that I wasn't familiar with the path at all.  Running alone on an unfamiliar path seemed to me like a recipe for panic.

I began to express my discomfort with the situation.  The conversation went something like this:

Me: Boyfriend, I do not want to do this.

Boyfriend: Why?  You aren't even trying.

Boyfriend and Me: *expletives shouted at one another*

Sometimes (OK, most of the time), people who do not suffer from a mental health issue fail to understand the problems of those who do.  It is hard to be empathetic to a situation that one cannot relate to.

So when Boyfriend suggests I go running on an unfamiliar golf path, this is what he sees:

Pictured: safety.

But this is what I see:

DANGER.

I am getting better though; and I must say that I am seeing more and more "safety" situations in my daily life.  I didn't run that day though, and Boyfriend didn't hit golf balls.  We both have plenty to work on: my courage, and his empathy.

Support Group

Recently, I got the very brilliant idea to start an anxiety support group in my area.  I thought it would be nice to get people with like problems together so that we could all drink punch and discuss the perils of being afraid of nothing.

Since I have no money to run a real ad and unlimited faith in the internets, I posted an ad on craigslist.

I struggle with my own mental health, and am interested in starting a support group for people in the area who share the same problems.

If you would be interested in joining or helping me form such a group, please respond via e-mail. There is definitely strength in numbers, and I think it could be a really good thing to help one another out. Thanks for your interest!

I diligently checked my phone every few minutes after posting waiting for the email floodgates to open.  After a few days with no response, I had essentially given up on my genius idea for a support group.  Clearly there weren't any other people in my area with anxiety problems.

But then....I got an email:

i have high anxiety manic depression, and panic attacks

Not a whole lot of detail, could've used some more punctuation and capitalization in places, but I was thrilled.  I gleefully exchanged emails with this man over the following couple of days, and we finally decided to meet up in a local Barnes and Noble.  I referred to this person to my real-life friends and family as my Anxiety Buddy.  Anxiety Buddy and I were going to become great friends and significantly improve each others lives.

The night before our intended meetup, I googled my newfound friend's email address just to make sure he wasn't a sex predator or anything.

Well...

HE WAS A SEX PREDATOR.

A Google search of Anxiety Buddy's email address revealed that he is a "MAJOR BBW AGENT LOOKING FOR PROPER MODEL," an "Adult Movie Producer searching for 13 inches," and a "pool champion."

Long story short, I decided not to meet up with him.

Sometimes our expectations are very different from our realities.

Expectation.

Reality (probably).

The Princess and the Panic Attack: An Introduction

 

I have panic disorder.  I've had it for the past eight years.  I have decided to start blogging about it because I think it will be therapeutic for me.  Also, you, dear Reader, may enjoy reading about my panic-ridden life and laughing with (and sometimes at) me.

 

 

I'd like to clarify something about the title of this blog: I am not really a princess.  This is not Kate Middleton's blog about panic attacks.  One of my bosses once called me a princess, and not in an endearing "Aww, Princess, it'll be okay" way.  The title is a parody of the children's story, The Princess and the Pea. 

 

According to the Mayo Clinic (and of course my own personal experience), panic attack symptoms include:

 

Sense of impending doom or danger

Fear of loss of control or death

Rapid heart rate

Sweating

Trembling

Shortness of breath

Hyperventilation

Chills

Hot flashes

Nausea

Abdominal cramping

Chest pain

Headache

Dizziness

Faintness

Tightness in your throat

Trouble swallowing

 

 

Let's go over some of the things that trigger panic attacks in me:

 

Stop lights.

 

Mother of God.

 

The interstate.

 

Pictured: Sheer terror.

 

Walking from my office to the bank across the street.

 

Obvious danger.

 

These, along with many, many other stimuli produce panic attacks for me.  So follow me, and let's share our experiences with panic disorder. 

 

Tell me about your own experiences in the comments!