Sunday, May 10, 2015

Happy Panic-versary

One year ago tomorrow, I had the worst day of my life. It also turned out to be the best day of my life, though I wouldn't go through it again.

For at least a month, I'd felt very ill. Constantly dizzy or faint. Not sleeping. A burning knot in my sternum that felt like it would actually burst out of me, Alien-style. Sometimes I'd feel like my entire body was vibrating, which might sound amazing but I promise you it was not. My heart was fluttering too much to sleep, and when I did sleep, I'd wake up with swollen ankles like somehow I'd sprained them in my dreams.

I chalked all of these up to allergies and not sleeping well, but I had so much work to do I couldn't stop to think about it. I carried on doing 12-hour days, hunched over my laptop, worried about deadlines and chasing down clients for payment and wondering if I'd make my rent that month and fending off a fair bit of personal drama at the same time.

One Sunday morning, I'd planned to meet someone I'd been chatting with on Twitter for a coffee. He happened to be in town that day visiting a friend. And as I stood in my bathroom and started to get ready, my left arm went numb and tingly. I broke out into a cold sweat. ('Cold sweat' is one of those expressions you don't think about until you break into an actual cold sweat; the closest I've felt to it was when I had the flu - that kind of freezing icy cold but also burning up kind of feeling.) And then I started to black out. 

I thought, well - this is it. I'm having an actual heart attack and all of the symptoms I've been feeling for weeks have been leading up to this moment. So I called 999. And I texted this Twitter man I'd never met in my life, who was waiting patiently in the coffee shop downstairs, and asked him to come up and wait with me. Not something I'd normally do. But I was terrified. 

Within 5 minutes the two most wonderful, gorgeous men on the planet were in my flat. Ed from Northwest Ambulance and Matt, who went from Twitter pal to my actual hero the moment he walked in the door, put the kettle on, and sat down and held my hand while I sobbed and struggled to control my breathing. (And he remains my hero to this day.)

Good old Ed figured out fairly quickly I was having a panic attack, which could not be possible, I argued vehemently, because all of these symptoms were very real. But long story short, they finally got through to me and I finally understood what was happening.

The next two or three months were lost to me, because I had to unravel what had led me to the point where my whole body shut down. Just taking a shower was difficult; running out for a quick food shop was an epic struggle; I couldn't work; every bit of my mental and physical energy went into trying to manage the constant panic. Thankfully, I had Hero Matt with me through much of it, although I know it must have been so difficult for him that we couldn't go for a meal or anything without him having to talk me down and manage my anxiety attacks, which were usually the unwelcome third wheel at the table. 

My dear friend Caz suggested we give it a name – this separate entity of panic – and we called her Barbara. "Feel like going out?" "Not today, Barbara's in town." It was funny, yes, but also incredibly helpful in the sense that it made me start to see anxiety as something separate from me, as an the actual person. If you've ever spent 5 minutes with me in real life, you've seen me suddenly have to leave the restaurant or shop to get some air, or frantically signal the waiter for some ice water, or cancel plans outright because I "suddenly wasn't feeling well." I always thought that was just my personality – I never wanted to go anywhere or do anything; I often thought of what a drag I am, how it's a wonder I have any friends at all. And finally, FINALLY, it began to dawn on me how anxiety has ruled my entire life. I was quite used to managing depression, but it had never occurred to me that anxiety, the flip-side of the depression coin, was a constant lurking presence as well. 

It's still there - I don't think it will ever go away. Just thinking of writing about this for the past few weeks has been enough to trigger mini anxiety attacks. I still have them in hot, noisy crowded places, which makes me so very fun to hang out with. I get them at the gym when my heart rate gets super fast and I start to hyperventilate. But now I know what it is, and how to manage it, and that I'm going to be okay. Better than okay. It's a lot of work sometimes, but as it turns out, I'm a lot stronger than I knew. 

Anyway, to get back to my original statement - how was May 11, 2014 the best day of my life? Because it opened my eyes to how I treated myself – mentally, physically and emotionally. It explained all of my physical symptoms, which miraculously began to disappear. It made me take stock of the costs of burying your feelings, ignoring your body's signals, not having a work/life balance, internalizing your darkest moments instead of talking to someone. 

And so I did start to talk to people about it. I still only know a few people in the UK, but they've all been incredibly supportive and caring. (Thank you Caz, Fenner, Kenris, Andy W1, Leanne and Richard.) I struggled with talking to friends and family at home about it, because I didn't want them to worry. Also if I'm being honest, I'm not great about admitting weakness or vulnerability with them. But when I did open up about it, they were, as ever, uniformly amazing. I also turned to Twitter and Facebook friends, most of whom I'd never met in real life, and some of whom shared their own experiences with panic attacks, or just listened and offered support. Especially Rob, Ben, Jon, Vicki, Andy W2, Alaco and Caroline - you all made me feel less alone and I'm so very grateful.

And of course, my hero Matt. I honestly don't know how I would have got through it without him, how he put aside his own problems to look after me, or how he somehow managed to see the gibbering mess he met that day and think, Yeah I'd like to see that woman again, what a catch! then give me the best year of my life. Even though we've recently split up, it's as the best and most loving of friends, and I know we're both stronger for the amazing time we had together. 

Finally, and I guess the main reason I'm sharing this: it reminded me to try every day to be more compassionate, less judgmental. We never know what someone's going through, what pain they might be in, how difficult it might be for them to get through the day. And it's important to use this compassion on yourself, listen to what your mind and body might be trying to tell you, to realize your needs are important too. Take the time to look after yourself. And remember to breathe.