They call it a panic attack. That is such an overused set of words today. You can hear the phrase tossed around in conversation like an upset stomach. Panic attacks are painful. Panic attacks are exhausting. Panic attacks are heart wrenching. Panic attacks evoke a fear within that….the words are not there.
The world goes black. Light dims. Your brain becomes blank for a split second. Then the words set in. Like a movie, life and moments and breath and anger and fear and pain and anything and everything flashes like a police car siren yet the only thing you have is you. No one can stop it.
One hour ago I had a panic attack.
Phone drowned in toilet. Daughter overslept. Daughter made it to school and kissed me goodbye. Another part of my car broke. Someone tried to make me feel bad about my business model. Found 2 awesome pallets for free (I make reclaimed wood art) – score! Huge miscommunication going between my husband and I. Lost motivation to work out. My main computer caught a virus. Took our little pup for a walk. Got a sweet email from a friend. Client emailing me because they apparently can’t read a contract (that they signed). Had a panic attack. Yes these are the normal ups and downs of a person’s day. However if you have a panic or anxiety disorder this is life. Waking up to a great day only to find five hours later on a ball sobbing breathlessly because your brain is in overload mode. It’s like overheating but instead overstimulating.
The sad part is I once was an over planner who could juggle it ALL. All my life I was able to juggle it all….until 6 months ago. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.
Six hours ago I had a panic attack.
I rushed to my she shed (the haven I have created for myself to find peace and release) and the pain continued to take over. I threw my computer. I beat the plywood floor. I layed in fetal position on the soft rug. I sobbed like a baby. I sobbed like an angry lady. I sobbed like a girl. I tried to meditate. I sobbed. I managed to pull it together enough today while in the middle to make a mental note of what it felt like.
A firecracker trapped under a blanket.
Mental illness is hard – it’s fucking hard. I would rather have some physical issue that isn’t such a mystery to the medical world. I say at times it’s not fair. I say at times why can’t I have something that people can see. But it’s fair. We all have our weights and for me a physical issue would be burden but a mental issue is a weight that lies on my shoulders and drains so much from me – taking my ability to be the best mom and wife. Each day is a now a journey to healing a mind, body and soul that I must have neglected over the past years. I hope this blog brings to light how mental illness affects us all – even the woman next-door who you think has a perfect life.