Experiences: Panic Stations

Panic Stations

Anxiety, stress, panic, nerves and/or a fragile constitution. None of these words come close to the experiences they try to describe. As with most labels of mental distress they cover a massive array of thoughts, feelings and physical sensations. They range from a constant feeling of uneasiness, of the fear that something bad is about to happen, to an intense attack of terror that feels as if it’s consuming you. That’s not to say that one is worse than the others, and it’s often the case that people encounter a mixture of them.

The feelings are often accompanied by bodily symptoms which add fuel to the fire, so to speak. Your heart may be racing, your breathing can quicken and feel out of control, there may be pains in your chest, stomach, head, you may feel dizzy, have pins and needles in your fingers …. the list goes on. It may feel like you are dying, or that you’re losing your mind. It’s a bit like catch 22, with each experience adding to the overall anxiety and thus causing more symptoms. It can be hard to break the cycle and regain control – but it is possible.

My experiences of anxiety and panic are many and varied. I had my first panic attack when I was about 12 years old, although I didn’t know what it was at the time. It’s not something you are taught about at school and it wasn’t recognised by those around me. I thought I was becoming really ill and that, in turn, made me panic more. The fears surrounding it meant that I felt unable to confide in the people around me. It set the scene for the rest of my adolescence – I kept most of my scary experiences to myself. I was very independent and wasn’t sure that other people could cope with the reality that was me. It took me a long time to get past that.

The anxiety got out of control at university. It was often the case that I felt on edge, nervous and found it hard to relax. My stomach was rebelling - it felt like I had a thousand elephants stomping around in there - and my muscles ached. It was a bit like background radiation, a constant low-level panic that became part of the norm. I’ve seen others experience much higher levels of constant anxiety, I guess I’m lucky in that respect.

Whenever I tried to accomplish something I found difficult the elephants in my stomach grew to gigantic proportions. I remember doing my grocery shopping at Tescos. This was a massive deal for me – the people, the lights, the decisions to be made, the queuing, the pressure …. did I mention the lights? As I walked down the hill towards it I could feel my chest tightening up and my heart beat thumping faster and faster in my chest. It was ok, I expected it, I knew it was just(?) anxiety. Well my rational mind did, but the rest of me was scared as hell. It was difficult not to turn back then, on another day I probably would have. I got bonus points for managing to leave the house, an effort in itself.

Once I dragged myself through the door, I was struck by the bright lights. The store felt so big, so bright and so loud that I felt the dizziness vying for my attention. My head was spinning so much that I found it hard to remember what I was meant to be doing. Shopping. Right. I picked up a basket, holding onto the wall whilst I steadied myself. I was like a newbie ice-skater afraid to let go of the side for fear of being swamped by the mass of confident ones and falling flat on my face. To my surprise, I let go and pressed onwards.

My brain spent so much energy controlling my impulse to bravely, bravely run away that it wasn’t up for much else. Consequently my shopping list went out of the window as it was all I could do to chuck a few random items into my shopping basket. The act of choosing was amazingly difficult and I spent a lot of the time alternating between different options then deciding I didn’t want either. I scurried back and forward through the isles, desperately trying to keep it together AND get enough food to last me a week. In the end, when I couldn’t stand it any longer, I made do with some biscuits, a pack of yoghurts and some milk.

I headed to the checkout, taking deep regular breaths and tying to block out everything around me. Sure everyone was looking at me, I scrambled to get my purse out of my pocket. My hands were so sweaty that it was hard to get hold of the money the lady was asking me for. Experiencing a sudden blast of paranoia, I felt sure she was looking at my shopping and thinking that I was too fat to eat. That I shouldn’t have chosen anything more calorific than celery. Revulsion and anxiety threatened to overcome me, so I dropped my change and grabbed the food. Almost running, standing out like a sore thumb (in my mind at least) I headed out of the supermarket and raced home. 0 – 60 miles per hour in less than 3 seconds.

Once home I collapsed on my bed and cried my eyes out. I felt stupid, stressed and a complete waste of space. It just didn’t make sense that I could be so terrified of ‘simple’ things that ‘everyone’ did with ease. Being hard on myself was an art form that I was rather good at. I had lots of practice.

Although I still experience attack of panic (especially on buses and in crowds) things are not nearly as bad as they were. I’ve learnt more about it – and knowledge is power. It can still be a struggle, but I’m getting there. I don’t practice relaxation as much as I ‘should’, but I’ve done it enough to get enough control to manage. Breathing techniques and an understanding of what’s happening help me more than diazepam does. Having support to beat my fears, such as going shopping, was also a key part of getting better. Working out what thoughts go along side, and even trigger, the anxiety is a bit trickier and is something I’m still working on. I’m just trying to take it one day at a time, minute by minute. I think that’s all I can do.

Is there life after panic?

I’ll let you know.