#mentalhealthconditions

I almost don’t know how to start this. Anxiety disorders are the most common mental illness in the U.S., affecting millions of adults every year.

I am one of those people who suffer. When I’m in panic, it’s almost as if a doppelgänger took over my body. So many people do not understand what happens and that the person has no control over how they feel. Stress and cortisol flood the body.

Last night I had a panic attack. I actually had several in the past week, and 4 or 5 just yesterday alone. What made my last two particularly long and painful is that other people were home and weren’t reacting compassionately. They live with me and don’t quite understand what I go through, how painful it is, and how little to no control I have over how I feel or can possibly react. I can empathize and understand that it can be scary to someone else—really I can. I don’t want to be in full-blown panic either, believe me—way more so than the people around me don’t want to see it.

A key driver is understanding. Panic disorder with panic attacks is not something that can be helped in the moment or have a lid put on it. What makes it all so much worse is when those around you judge you and believe mental health issues are something that can simply be controlled. I’m writing this because if my own household doesn’t quite understand what this is about, how can anyone else? I need to do my part in spreading awareness.

I didn’t know much about true anxiety either. Why should I? We throw the word around a lot. Many of us live with low-level anxiety constantly. As a society, we are mostly all anxious. Anxiety and panic disorder are a little different. Nervousness and anxiety can both cause similar symptoms, but normal nervousness—like before a big presentation or applying for a job—is tied to a real situation and passes. Panic disorder is not like that.

I’ve read a lot about anxiety in the past two years since I’ve been diagnosed. Stress is prevalent in our culture. A large part is due to technology and the constant bombardment of information. Also, the ability for others to reach into our lives at any moment—through social media, texting, email—creates a constant sense of urgency. When I was younger and we had a house phone attached to a wall, leaving work meant the day was done. No one was creating new demands through texts and emails late into the evening.

Now, something as simple as a phone notification at 9pm can cause our heart rate to increase and create a false sense of urgency. Whether it’s from a loved one or your boss, the body reacts as if something is wrong. For most people, that feeling fades quickly. For those of us with an anxiety disorder, it doesn’t go away—it escalates.

A panic attack can feel like your body suddenly believes it is in danger, even when nothing is actually happening. Your heart races, your breathing changes, your chest feels tight, and your body prepares to fight or run. Rational thinking goes offline. It is not the time to reason through it or try to explain it away.

With panic disorder, the body goes into full fight-or-flight mode without a real, present threat. It differs for everyone, but for me, I am often triggered by something external that was threatening in the past. Many times I cannot initially identify the trigger. It is almost impossible to do so when the brain is flooded and executive functioning shuts down.

I want to feel normal and not panic more than anything. Riding it out, medicine, and therapy are helpful, but it took years for my body to become this dysregulated. It likely will not go away overnight.

I can tell you what makes it worse for me:

Being with someone during a panic attack who doesn’t understand and becomes annoyed or frustrated. I can’t be helped in that moment. Someone in my face trying to rationalize it feels condescending. Being ignored feels humiliating and similar to abandonment. I’m already overwhelmed—those reactions only intensify it.

Another difficult experience is trying to hide it so as not to scare others. That creates another layer of pressure. I’ve had panic attacks on airplanes, in restaurants, at work, while driving, while getting ready for bed, and even when waking up. When people pretend nothing is happening, it makes me feel like something is wrong with me—like I need to be hidden.

And then there is the shame. The feeling that you need to hide such a significant part of your experience from others. Our society does not always respond kindly to mental health struggles. Before experiencing this myself, I also believed it was something that could be controlled. Last summer I spent a full month in an Intensive Outpatient Program, but I was afraid to tell people why I was on leave. If I felt that way, I’m sure others do too.

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. If you don’t struggle with mental health (and that’s wonderful), it’s very likely you know someone who does—you just may not realize it. Let’s do our part to bring awareness and approach one another with compassion instead of judgment.

We are all human. Let’s treat one another as such.

Peace.

Anxiety and Depression Association of America https://adaa.org/about-adaa/press-room/facts-statistics#
We Need to Talk. Our Society Has an Issue With Anxiety and Mental Health. https://futurism.com/we-need-to-talk-our-society-has-an-issue-with-anxiety-and-mental-health/amp/
How to Handle Someone Else’s Anxiety or Panic Attacks https://medium.com/@gtinari/how-to-handle-someone-elses-anxiety-or-panic-attacks-51ee63f5c23b
How to Help Someone Having a Panic Attack https://m.wikihow.com/Help-Someone-Having-a-Panic-Attack
Mental Health America http://www.mentalhealthamerica.net/may

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/doppelganger/

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I have a deeper appreciation for life and moving through my day than I’ve ever had before. Two things happened in the past few months that helped me come to this realization: I started taking an SSRI, and I had outpatient knee surgery. Two very different things for completely different reasons—but in all honesty, both were the result of moving through life too quickly and absentmindedly. Both have completely slowed me down (and fattened me up just a little!), and it’s not all a bad thing.

Back in March, I quite literally lost my marbles and, thankfully, became fully aware that fooling myself into sleeping more, doing more yoga, or meditating more often was not going to be my cure. Truthfully, I was no longer able to do any of those things in a way that felt meaningful. Yoga still felt good physically, but it didn’t slow my thoughts or help me “just be” like it used to. Meditation was a joke. I sat there diligently, but I couldn’t stop the racing in my head.

I did everything I could to keep up with my life. I was (and still am) one of the most organized people I know. Everything was as efficient as possible. No time management tip was going to help—I would read them and think I could write a better article myself. I was stretched thin. There was no room for error. One small miscommunication between family members and the entire chain of well-planned events and pickups would fall apart. No way to live.

A few days before the marble-losing, I went to a routine Thursday morning report-out for senior leadership. As usual, I prepared at the last minute—rushed, but still pulled together something polished and well-coordinated. I walked into the conference room, my employee pulled up the presentation, and I slid my chair under the large dark wooden table.

SLAM.

I hit my right knee hard on one of the table legs.

There were the usual reactions—“Oof,” “I heard that,” “You didn’t need that knee anyway!”—and I shrugged it off and kept going. About 24 hours later, during a meeting with my small team, I noticed my knee hurt. I wondered why as I pushed through the agenda, then remembered hitting it the day before and briefly questioned why it took so long to register. That night at dinner with friends, it hurt more.

The next day, Daren and I went into the city. We were so busy and stressed that I didn’t think about my knee at all. The following morning, seemingly out of nowhere, I had my first long-overdue panic attack. I cried the entire way home. I noticed my knee hurt, but it wasn’t until late the next night—around 9 p.m.—that I realized how swollen and red it had become.

Daren was at hockey practice. I wanted him to look at it, but I fell asleep before he got home.

Long story short, the next few weeks were filled with panic attacks and knee aspirations. The panic worsened quickly. I realized I had to start medication—I had nowhere left to cut back. And have you ever tried to “relax” while in a nonstop adrenaline rush? It doesn’t work.

Once I started the SSRI, I began to notice how often my body was in fight-or-flight, even as my mind started to calm. It was eye-opening. I had been living like this all the time.

I first went to urgent care five days after the injury and was told to rest and monitor it. It stopped hurting—but it didn’t stop swelling. So I ignored the advice. I ran on it, did yoga on it, and didn’t call an orthopedist for three weeks. Who has time for this?

Eventually, I was getting it drained every couple of weeks… then every week… then it started swelling again almost immediately after each visit. At one point, the doctor tried to drain it and nothing came out. A wall had formed. Surgery or live with it.

It’s funny—my knee felt like a physical version of what had been happening mentally for years. Rushing. Ignoring warning signs. Doing the bare minimum to manage something that was clearly deteriorating. Until I hit a wall—mentally first, then physically.

It wasn’t until I had no choice but to deal with it that I realized how much my lifestyle was harming me. My body is all I have—why wasn’t I taking care of it?

After medication adjustments and a few rough weeks, the panic attacks lessened. And then I had surgery.

I’m not claiming I’m a changed woman, but I’ve had some of the most relaxing weeks of my life.

Since March, I’ve rediscovered the library. I’ve been reading a book a week—fiction. Nothing intellectual. Nothing self-improvement related. Just stories.

I’ve started getting bi-weekly massages. Daren and I have been spending more time at home—making the outside of our house beautiful, sipping cocktails, watching fun TV (not documentaries—actual fun TV). I’ve been coloring mandalas. Visiting local shops. Sitting in coffee shops with a matcha latte and a book. Writing for fun.

I’ve even started going back to sleep in the mornings when I don’t have to rush.

That, in itself, feels like a revolution.

My whole life, I woke up ready to go. Even when I was exhausted. There was always something to do. Something waiting. Something urgent. My dad used to bang on our doors and tell us we were “sleeping our lives off.”

Now… I listen to my body. And sometimes it tells me to rest. And I do.

After surgery, I slowed down even more. I slept. I sat outside with my leg up and a book. I noticed things. I wasn’t rushing anywhere.

One morning, I walked slowly down my own street and realized I barely knew it. The houses, the details, the quiet beauty of it all. It had always been there—I just hadn’t.

Later, on the ferry, I looked at my legs—one swollen, one not—and felt grateful just to have them. In the shower, I noticed their strength, their design, how they carry me through life.

I ate breakfast and actually tasted it. I thought about how each raspberry grew—slowly, over time—until it was ready.

I want that.

Slow growth. Presence. Awareness.

We spent the day outside. I modified yoga to meet my body where it was. The trees were alive with spring. Food tasted better. Life felt softer.

Healing—mentally and physically—is happening in small increments. Just like those raspberries.

This morning, I woke up early when Daren left to drive Kieran to work. I started writing this… then stopped.

I opened the blinds. Listened to the birds. Laid back down. Let myself rest.

I want to live like this more.

I’ve already asked to cut back hours at work—and thankfully, the answer was yes.

I don’t want to need medication or injury to slow down. I want to choose it.

We all need to live a little more and “do” a little less. Be present more and absent less.

Every single moment matters.

And I’m finally ready to live in them.

Namaste.

Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Please feel free to leave a comment or subscribe for future updates.

On Understanding Panic Disorder

The connection and beauty of two negative recent events in my life