The self conscious part of myself is telling me not to share this online, that you can't make people understand what you are going through, but that isn't the goal here; the goal is to reach out to those who suffer in silence and extend a virtual hand and ear to listen to. There are others out there who need to know they aren't alone in this world, how they aren't travelling down the road alone of suffering with a mental illness. I read somewhere that we live in a world where people will rush to sign your cast if you've broken an arm or a leg, but when it comes to telling people how you feel on the inside they will indiscreetly turn the other way and run. C'mon guys, can't you be a little more discreet than that? However, we should all try to erase the negative stigma that surrounds the whole topic of mental health and replace it with a more positive stigma. Which reminds me, today's topic is panic attacks! Yay!
I was only eight years old when I suffered from my first panic attack and it took me years later to realise what it was. A group of children that had bullied me really badly were trying to get a hold of me to hurt me, but thanks to my bike that I had at the time, I managed to arrive safely to my end destination; Nan's garden. Now, there's being breathless and then there's genuinely not being able to breathe and I knew the difference. I remember a sick feeling had gripped my stomach; it was almost as if a hand had closed around my internal organs and gripped them tight, the fingers spreading a sickly virus through my body that caused my tiny hand to clutch at my chest and stomach as a failed attempt to breathe. I remember stumbling up my Nan's doorstep, the difficulty of not being able to breathe properly had my legs falling out from under me and my vision becoming blurry with tears as well as dizziness threatening to take away my consciousness. My Nan tried to have me explain why I was in a state of panic, but the words wouldn't come out of my mouth and whenever I tried to speak, the words started to tangle around each other and instead of a straight answer, I was spitting out unfinished sentences and strangled words. As I was still a young child, I was oblivious to the world of mental health and panic attacks and basically everything that is related to it so I was left in the dark until I hit my teenage years. You'll always remember your first....but I remember all of my panic attacks.
I was twenty years old when I had my second panic attack. My boyfriend of four years had broken up with me and his reason today is still invalid; the need for space, the fact he didn't love me anymore and so on so forth, but did he really have to do all this on the day I had a family member's funeral. Talk about bad timing! My best friends decided to bring me on my first ever night out that night (it was also St Patrick's Day) so it was bound to be a busy night on the town of Galway. I remember standing outside the Skeff bar with my group of friends as we were deciding what nightclub to go to (we ended up in DNA) and as I stood with them, I decided to sit down for a bit. My mind was racing about what had just happened in the hours previous. The break up was too much for me and I excused myself from the group, walked over to the nearest tree, hunched into a ball and cried. The same sick feeling of dread overtook my body and the tears wouldn't stop. My breath kept catching in my throat and I clutched at my chest and my throat as a failed attempt to get some air, but nothing worked. I began to shake uncontrollably and I remember putting my head between my hands and wishing for this pain to stop, I wanted everything to stop. I was all dressed up, make-up on and I was meant to be feeling good about myself, but instead I just wanted to not exist. I knew this pain would keep coming for another visit and it did daily; yes the panic attacks were daily and I hope to never re-live that pain ever again. That was just me getting my hopes up again though, that pain did indeed come back.
Less than two months after the relationship breakdown, another loss untangled itself in my life and this loss still haunts me to this day; every single day, every hour....all the time, but I'm learning how to deal with it. The day I moved in permanently with my Nan was the night that she passed away. I won't go into details...I can't, for fear of breaking down and then my day will be spent crying and I don't want that...but I was there and little did I realise that when I bid her "Goodnight" that it would be the last time I ever said it to her. I remember it being 3am and I was waiting in the sitting room with my neighbour, best friend and my two siblings; all of us waiting to hear news from the hospital about how Nan was. My phone rang and I was clinging on for dear life to that bit of hope, but since when does hope and I get along well? We received news that she had passed away. I dropped the phone and denied it; shouted the word "NO" again and again and again out loud as if shouting it louder would bring her back. The feeling of panic flooded towards me even stronger; stronger than when I was eight and stronger than what happened to me two months previous. I broke down, sliding off the couch on to my hands and knees and let my forehead press against the floor and I cried so loud that the whole estate could have heard, but I didn't care. Nan was gone, my one favourite person was gone....and I couldn't accept it. My best friend wanted me to stay strong in front of my siblings, but it was impossible to hold myself together and nothing should ever be impossible, but this was. I panicked and I couldn't breathe and I wish I could describe this one for you because this panic attack deserves the award of "worst panic attack", but I don't know how to describe something so scary. The only thing I can say is I experience mini panic attacks on a day to day basis, but I am learning to keep those at bay with a few breathing techniques.
I always felt a sense of embarrassment when I have a panic attack because not only do they happen when I'm at home, but they happen when I'm out in public; working or just out in general. There is the feeling that people are staring at you and wondering why you're in such a panicked state and what's the reason for clutching your chest or why is sweat gathering on your flushed face? Let them think what they want because if they were in your shoes then they wouldn't dare judge you. That's the thing about trying to explain your mental illness to someone else, you can't make them understand, they will only understand if they are in your shoes, but I'm always too busy worrying about everyone else and have developed a mindset of "I'd rather feel like this rather than someone close to me feeling like this". I'm constantly worrying about the other person rather than myself and it is a habit I need to break.....maybe soon though.
Here's what I use to help me through my panic attacks:
1. Breathing techniques
What to do: breathe in for 4 seconds, hold for 4 seconds, breathe out for 4 seconds and hold for 4 seconds and repeat the process until the panic attacks passes. However, this breathing technique doesn't work for everyone. My solution isn't everyone's solution :)
2. The 5,4,3,2,1 technique
What to do: This is a grounding technique so when you feel panicky and out of touch with your surroundings this will distract your mind in a good way and make you feel more in touch with yourself again. Name 5 things you can see, name 4 things you can touch, 3 things you can hear, 2 things you can smell and 1 thing you can taste.
There are many other techniques out there to help with panic attacks, but these are just two techniques that work for me. We don't need tonnes and tonnes of techniques to help us because it would be too much to handle if we tried to remember them all, so choosing two or even three of them will do the world of good.
Panic attacks suck, lets be quite honest here and maybe all of us will experience them in our lives and maybe some of us won't, but when we do experience them it's okay. Panic attacks are nothing to be ashamed of; it's just our bodies way of telling us that something is too overwhelming and how maybe we should take a step back and look after ourselves. To those out there who suffer with a mental illness: Look after yourselves and reach out to someone you trust if you need someone to talk to or even just sharing your story with others makes a big difference. I remember reading someone's story about their experience with anxiety and I thought "Wow, I know how they feel....they're so brave to be sharing that with the world and seeing that there is someone else out there who feels he same makes me feel less alone".
Be kind
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