Dealing with Anxiety

After that second panic attack I was pretty much scarred (and scared, for that matter.) It left such a lasting impression, that I couldn't stop mentally checking my physical status to try to assure myself I was doing O.K. Of course, this did me no good whatsoever.

I would find myself very aware of my heart rate. Constantly mentally monitoring it and making sure it had a reason to be beating at the rate is was. I was also hypersensitive to any unusual feelings. By unusual feelings I mean eye strain (clearly a stroke about to happen), or indigestion (probably internal bleeding). The Grandaddy of them all, though, was the random PVC or “premature ventricular contraction.” Most people call them heart palptations or a “skipped beat.” They are common and harmless and I knew this, intellectually. The problem was that my anxiety had nothing to do with logic.

To be honest, I don't think I ever really believed I was sick or otherwise in need of medical help when these things would happen (except for that second attack. I actually thought I might have a heart attack on that one) I was more afraid of being afraid, and I just didn't have control of the panic attack when it would grab hold of me.

See, I knew that if I started to feel weird in any way, the anxiety would kick in, and when the anxiety kicked in, the anxiety attack was a real possibility. That is, of course, scary...So, well, you know the drill.

The third panic attack is the last one I remember in chronological order. It was a few weeks from the last one.

One afternoon I was making a snack when I suddenly got a bit dizzy. Nothing too intense, but it was unexplainable. I had told myself that next time I felt anxiety coming on, I was going to just snap myself out of it because I knew the panic was just me B.S.ing myself (that's what I heard anyway). That didn't really work out so well.

While I was chastising myself like an angry highschool football coach for being a pansy, all I could focus on was the fear welling up inside me. “The sink!” I thought. It was conveniently located just a few feet away. I yanked the faucet on cold as far as it would go and stuck my head under the stream. I had long hair at the time so when I brought my head back up, everything including myself was quickly soaked.

“That was almost effective” I thought, “but not cold enough.” I still felt shakey and my heart was thumping in my chest. I swung open the freezer and yanked out the ice tray, which, mercifully, was full. I plugged the drain, dumped in the ice and waited for the sink to fill (which took six and a half weeks, more or less).

When I plunged my face in the water I realized...It was really freaking cold! I thought it would be refreshing but instead I got “painful.” Turns out that painfully cold was enough to snap me out of it. A few dunks and I was feeling much better. “I'll have to remember this” I said to myself somewhat breathlessly, now shivering from the ice water running down my back, but no longer shaking from fear.

This techique became my “go-to” whenever I felt that anxiety kicking in. It was usually pretty effective. The problem was that I wasn't always near a sink when a panic attack would hit, and finding myself “sans sink” was sometimes enough to turn anxiety into panic. I had inadvertantly caused myself more problems while searching for a solution. That seemed to be a common theme over the years.

I knew I had to find a way to control my feelings before they got out of hand. Trying to manage an attack after it started was just silly. All panic attacks will end by themselves anyway, the point is to avoid the ride.

Until next time,

Chris