Panic Attacks. The Journey Continues.

26 Jan

After my panic attack on the way to Ottawa, I went to see my family doctor. I was adamant about not being on medication. Medication was for crazy people. I was normal. Normal. I have a really great doctor, who booked longer sessions for me, where we sat and talked and drank tea and he humoured me about me not needing medication.

For a while I was fine. Until I wasn’t.

I started having panic attacks frequently. When I wasn’t having an actual attack, I was in a really high state of anxiety. My physical symptoms were out of control. I wasn’t keeping track of my thoughts at the time, the way I do now, but my most prevailing thought was that something was the matter with me, I was dying, and I would leave my daughter motherless. Every twinge was something, until my breathing was so shallow that I was essentially hyperventilating. My muscles were always tense, I grinded my teeth. I was hot and cold. I was sick all the time with colds. I kept a bag at the front door packed with things for me and my daughter, clothes, books, toys, diapers, and a Roots hoodie that I never wore. Each night in the evening, I showered and washed my hair and put on a nice pair of pajamas. I was ready to go to the hospital if I needed to. I was nothing if not prepared.

I was absolutely consumed with the idea of never being able to see my child grow up, of her not knowing just how very much I love her, and how I would do anything for her. ANYTHING.

That year, I attended the ER at least six times. If I went in the middle of the night, I brought my daughter with me. The thought of us being separated made me worse. The bond I have with my daughter remains strong today. Two times, I drove to work, and had to turn around and go to the ER. I cancelled plans with friends because I was scared about something happenting to me.

At the ER, I had a need to see my ECG results. My blood test results. My chest X-ray results. I just wanted confirmation that they were normal. That I was normal. And then I would be almost ok. Until I wasn’t.

While I basically hid everything from friends and family by withdrawing from activities, just keeping things on the surface, and faking how I was doing, my doctor was another story entirely. I couldn’t keep it together even in the waiting room. Or the car on the way to his office. He was seeing me at least weekly and I was put on medication. I knew I needed it, even if it did mean I was crazy. At this point, I really believed I was crazy. How could I feel this way and not be crazy?

2005-2006 was not a good time. Not a good time at all. Despite having the best daughter any person could ask for, a great husband and wonderful friends and family, and a fulfilling career, I was so unhappy inside. I lived in fear constantly. I cried all the time.

I was so tired. So very tired.

Part 3 coming soon.

Part 1

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4 Responses to “Panic Attacks. The Journey Continues.”

  1. website January 27, 2012 at 1:36 am #

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Trackbacks/Pingbacks

  1. Panic Attacks. Triggered by my own writing. | Jenn's World - January 27, 2012

    […] Jenn's World Just another Mommy Blogger Skip to content HomeAbout ← Panic Attacks. The Journey Continues. […]

  2. Panic Attacks. And then I got pregnant. | Jenn's World - January 30, 2012

    […] Part 2 […]

  3. Panic Attacks. Post Partum Mood Disorder | Jenn's World - February 8, 2012

    […] Part 2 […]

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