Divorce and Panic Disorder

So, I mentioned in my last post that my wife at the time was on psychotropic drugs for depression. Honestly I think she was bipolar, not just depressed, but I guess that's neither here nor there. The important part is that she was impossible to deal with. I gave her some slack because if she had problems, it wasn't her fault. I had problems too and it wasn't my fault (at least not my panic disorder, I had other things that were my fault, of course).

The big problem is that she wasn't a very good person, honestly. If that wasn't bad enough, she clearly didn't love me. Add to that the fact that I didn't love her anymore...probably never did, actually...you get the idea.

Well, one day I decided that I really needed to leave for the benefit of us all. Strangely enough (perhaps not so strangely, I suppose) once I stated my intentions, everything was fine! I mean, I had about a month or so to get everything together and settle our business, so to speak. After the initial discussion, which was a bit uncomfortable, everything seemed just peachy.

Apparently knowing I was leaving was enough to make us feel like we were dating again. No commitment meant no pressure. No pressure meant being able to be ourselves again and not care what the other one thought.

Of course I still had to go. Ironically, the only way for us to to be happy together was to not be together. Life can be complicated.

I tell you this because from the time I left to the time we got back together (oh, yes, there is a story there), I felt mostly just fine.

For about a year I was living back in California as a regular single guy and doing quite well. Now, I had had long stretches without the anxiety or panic before, but the way I went from being a wreck to immediately fine upon leaving Colorado made me think that environmental triggers were playing more of a part in my problem than I had thought.

I was a bit depressed about the divorce for a few weeks in the beginning, but I never experienced any anxiety over it. I even went though about a month of dating my old ex girlfriend, which should have thrown me over the edge (as I look back on the situation. She was...difficult), but I dealt just fine. There was some drama, but no panic attacks.

During my time as a single guy, I did continue to drink. I did, however, moderate it quite a bit. I would mostly drink socially at the pub after work or at dinner. I ate out almost exclusively since I was just renting a room. I had kitchen privileges, but eating out was just easier. This meant that I couldn't get too verschnickered, because I had to drive home. It's also about ten times the expense to drink at the bar than at home.

I really couldn't say if my alcohol consumption at the time (or moderation thereof) played any part in my anxiety status, honestly. It would be nice to be able to point to very specific factors, but as we will shortly discuss, there are certain aggravating factors that are identifiable...Namely, my ex-wife.

It was just over a year after leaving that SHE showed back up in my life...

We'll get in to that next time,

Chris

P.S. Don't forget to check out Panic Away to find out why not even my ex wife can get to me anymore!

Anxiety Medications

Unlike many people with anxiety attacks, my first encounter with a doctor was not upon my initial attack, but rather some years later.

During my first attack (which was mercifully short) I had a general idea that what I was going through might have been a panic attack, I watched 60 Minutes too after all. Either way, it began to subside quickly enough that I didn't call the ambulance or anything. From then on I knew what it was (which did nothing to help, unfortunately) and I didn't really think a doctor could help me.

Fast forward to about the age of twenty five. I had finally decided that maybe a doctor could give me some tranquilizers or something. I wasn't about to see a therapist. Not only did I not have the insurance coverage, I also didn't believe for a second that a “shrink” could do me any good by me talking about my inner child for years on end. I figured I just inherited this mess so it's in my genes. I wasn't having much luck controlling panic attacks on my own, though, so I figured Xanax could do it for me with less side effects than boozing it up.

Doctors don't like to give you narcotics if you straight up ask for them, I learned. Especially if you are a long haired rocker type. Strike one. I got  a “prescription” for deep breathing exercises and it only cost me fifty bucks at that.

On my next go 'round I played it cooler. You know, the “I've tried deep breathing and meditation, and nothing works, Doc. Whatever can I do now?” technique. It worked. I got Valium.

So, here's the thing about taking tranquilizers for panic attacks. It takes at least twenty minutes for the darned pill to kick in and the attack is usually over in less than ten. This was a logistical issue I had overlooked. Alcohol would kick in in a few minutes at least. The label on the bottle said take one tablet as needed. The problem was that without psychic powers I didn't know for sure when I was going to need it.

You see, I felt general anxiety off and on quite a bit, but a full blown anxiety attack only came on every once in a while. I tried taking half a pill every 6 hours or so in an attempt to hold down any possible anxiety throughout the day, but even that small dose still made me move in slow motion all day. I was pretty relaxed to be sure, I was also not able to function properly

I eventually put the pills in the medicine cabinet for those times when I was experiencing an extended period of anxiety. I also would carry one in a little pill box in my pocket just as a “security blanket.” Actually, it helped quite a bit knowing it was there. Just having it on me enabled me to bear more than I might have without it.

Over all, tranquilizers were just a slight help. They were nowhere near a solution. As far as drugs go, the next step was SSRIs like Prozac, etc. This was not an option for me.

My wife at the time had been put on Effexor for depression. Twenty five dollars per pill those things cost. When she lost her insurance, well, things got very ugly very fast. I did not want to be put on a drug that may or may not work for me and not be able to stop without months of medical oversight. I was somewhat desperate, but that idea actually made me anxious in itself.

It wasn't long after these events that I had a major change in my life that did have a pretty significant effect on my panic attacks and anxiety. Divorce.

Until later,

Chris.

P.S. To learn more about how to stop panic attacks naturally, without pills, check out the Panic Away Method.

Anxiety and Alcohol

As time went on I realized that I was actually having periods of relative peace. In fact from the ages of about 20 to 22 I'd say I felt more or less “normal.” There was a bit of girlfriend drama around that time, but I don't recall any full blown panic attacks. What I do recall, however, is that I began drinking on a regular basis around then.

I don't believe that I was feeling less anxiety because I was drinking, necessarily, but it might have helped. Either way, the drinking became a habit. It was something that was comfortable and normal for me. That's probably why it turned in to a crutch, eventually.

After moving away from my home town in Southern California in a quest to find myself, I found myself...in Colorado. That wasn't my original destination, but after plan A-E fell through, that's were I landed.

Somehow within months I found myself with a factory job and a turn-key family. I guess I thought I was making up for lost time, but I rushed in to a disfunctional marriage with a problematic stepchild and a live-in relative too.

It wasn't long at all before my regular social and recreational drinking became swilling beer to keep from going nuts amongst the chaos. I remained functional and only drank in the evenings, but it was clear that without it, I was starting to feel the same old anxiety creeping in on me.

Eventually I started waking up with anxious feelings in the morning and struggling through my day. Work sucked. I would be underneath a 150 ton press in “the Pit” standing in two inches of leaked hydrolic fluid and trying to thread a 90 pound die core up in place...all the while thinking “keep it together man...deep breathing.” It was about that time in my life I learned how to refrain from externalizing my symptoms when I had to. Talk about unpleasant...

If you suffer from panic attacks you've probably found yourself in a situation where you just couldn't lose it (even though you were). It's the worst! In fact, being in such a situation is often a trigger in itself. The times I did manage to not lose all composure (outwardly at least) were...well, honestly I can't think of the words to describe it. The thing that I remember most, though, is the feeling of complete disassociation. It was like watching everything unfold on T.V. I couldn't feel my face or hands. Everything sounded muffled. Looking back, I think I maintained outward composure. Nobody said anything.

Anyway, after a couple years of regular drinking, one's tolerance tends to increase. I was drinking a half bottle or so of hard liquor and a few beers every night. This, of course would have an adverse effect on the way I felt the next morning. Eventually, and I don't know how or why, being hung over caused a lot of anxiety. Shaking, dizziness, strange feelings in my chest and guts, and of course, full blown anxiety attacks. I couldn't just feel like crap like I used to a few years before. No! now I had to feel weird, and as we all know, feeling weird is the last thing an anxiety sufferer can handle.

So once again I had trapped myself in a vicious cycle and it went on for quite awhile. After three years I decided to seek medical help. Notice I said “seek” not “find.”

Until next time,

Chris

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