My anxiety had been so severe for so long that when I finally started to feel better it was…strange. I had forgotten what it felt like to feel normal. I had felt poorly for so long. It was something I lived with every day and, yes, I was coping, and actually convincing myself that this was just how it was going to be and I needed to learn to live with it.
Eventually I went on an SSRI medication and between that, therapy, lots of prayer, lots of rest, and various other coping strategies, I started to feel the weight of anxiety lifting off of me, and for the last 3-4 years, I’ve actually been able to live a “normal life”.
I am continuously grateful for this gift I’ve been given, living anxiety disorder free. Please note, this doesn’t mean I never feel anxious or stressed, because I do, but living with anxiety as a disorder and feeling stressed out are not the same thing.
Sometimes I feel so good, I now forget what it’s like to feel so bad.
Well, today I remembered. Today I had a panic attack. My first one in years. I woke up feeling some anxiety surrounding attending a medical appointment for my daughter. I thought it was strange, but I also thought it would pass, but it didn’t. It got worse and worse and worse. By the time we checked in for the appointment, I thought I was going to throw up, my stomach was so nauseated. I started to catastrophize.
Would I make it through the appointment? My daughter most likely will cry and she’s not going to want me to leave the room…What if I have to leave the room? What if I throw up? What if I break out in hives? What if I embarrass myself completely? What if I have a panic attack and can’t function and need to get out of there? I have to be strong for my daughter. I don’t want her to see me afraid.
These were the thoughts ricocheting around in my brain.
Not to mention, the dilemma about whether or not to take an Ativan. Because I had been feeling anxious, I threw an old bottle in the diaper bag, “just in case”. I hadn’t taken one in years.
Last minute, I popped a pill in my mouth. It didn’t work instantaneously but it was enough to know that it would kick in soon and I started to calm down, but I was still in a very high state of anxiety when we walked into the appointment, which wound up going fine by the way.
And now, the aftermath.
I am confused. I am scared. I am disappointed.
Is it back? I don’t want to go back…
Why did it happen? Is it going to happen again? Is the medication not working? What am I going to do? I have a child now, I can’t fall apart.
The catastrophizing continues.
Days like today remind me of how I once lived…for years, and they make me beyond grateful for the last 3-4.
I am doing my best to stop the onslaught of continuous fearful thoughts bouncing around in my head. I am doing my best to take each moment as it comes. I am trying to tell myself today was just a bad day. I am telling myself that if it’s back, which it probably isn’t, but if it’s back, I will go back to the coping strategies. I will get more strict about rest, sleep, exercise, diet, therapy, etc.
I had forgotten how awful anxiety can be. Today, I remembered.
The Hope Antidote 