Panic Disorder, The Courthouse, Halloween and BRAIN ZOMBIES

Okay.  Picture this.  Most of us watch Walking Dead, right?  If you don’t, here’s a quick, non-spoiler synopsis:

THE WORLD IS BROKEN.  THERE IS SOME KIND OF TERRIFYING VIRUS THAT RUINS EVERYTHING.   PRETTY MUCH EVERYBODY DIES.  EXCEPT THEY DON’T JUST DIE.  THEY DIE AND COME BACK TO LIFE AND THEN THEY’RE REALLY SCARY. THEY’RE ALL BLOODY AND LIMBLESS AND MANGLED AND DECOMPOSED. THEY WANT TO EAT YOU.  THAT’S ALL THEY WANT TO DO. AND WHEN THEY DO YOU WILL DIE AND COME BACK SCARY AND MINDLESS AND GORY JUST LIKE THEM AND THEN YOU’LL EAT OTHER PEOPLE TOO.  THE CYCLE CONTINUES, AND THE WORLD ONLY GETS SCARIER.

So imagine that you’ve managed to still be one of the non-zombie people.  You and a bunch of your cinematically sexy buddies with carefully sexy end-of-the-world-chic outfits have pieced together a stronghold of an old prison, and it’s kind of safe there, except for when it’s not.  But mostly it is.  We totally love fences and security towers and guns and stuff.  And then suddenly you have to go outside or you’ll starve or the worst things will happen or something.

So the world is broken and you have to go to the nearest Costco to or you’ll die and so will your friends.  You have to leave your prison now.  Except that this isn’t even just like Walking Dead.  These aren’t slow zombies.  These are FAST zombies, a la 28 Days Later or something.  They can run and talk and hack you with machetes or whatever it is they do.  I haven’t seen that movie in years and I can’t really call myself a reliable source here.  But the point is: they’re really scary.  All of the things are scary.  THE WORLD IS REALLY SCARY.  And you’re out of milk and bread and pizza pockets or whatever.  Shit.

THIS IS WHAT PANIC DISORDER FEELS LIKE.  Now, you may know in your rational brain that there are not zombies running around, and you’re not going to be mauled or machete’d or turned into a mindless flesh eating robot.  But your brain is still very busy making brain- zombies, and no matter what you tell yourself, you’re still seeing them everywhere.  And the only thing that this very powerful part of your brain knows is that zombies mostly can’t get into the dismal safeguarded prison you’ve decided to inhabit.  But it gets worse.

Here’s where the real mind-fuck comes.  NO ONE ELSE CAN SEE THE ZOMBIES.  You are alone, and there is no help coming.  You’re with all of your friends and family, and they’re all, “I don’t see any mindless flesh eating undead around here.  Just a Mexican restaurant.  That’s some weird stuff that your brain makes!  Why can’t you come to the park today?”

My prison is my house.  Specifically, my bedroom.  The kitchen and living room aren’t really scary, but the bedroom is the best spot for safety.  The front porch is a little fringe-y and the mailbox is kind of an adventure.  Once we start getting into the car (which isn’t safe, either) our only pseudo-zombie-free locales are my favorite dive bar and my best friend’s house that’s only five minutes away.  Everywhere else is totally infested with fast scary zombies.

Including, as mentioned in the last post, the courthouse, which I had to go to for dealing with something totally benign today.  That is, except for the brain zombies.  I actually made it through without incident.  There was still the time when I drove on the highway to get there (zombies are all over highways) and had to go over TWO overpasses (also chock-full of zombies).  Then I had to park (in a lot infested with zombies) and walk into the office (full of zombies) and wonder whether they would accept (read: not sic zombies on me about this) the paperwork I had with me.  Everything worked out fine.  But my brain is still telling me that the world is full of flesh-eating zombies.

The best thing that I can take away from this imaginary zombie filled courthouse encounter is that I made it through.  Nobody likes government facilities, but this was waaaaay scarier for me than it is for most.  And I didn’t die, again.  I didn’t even have to fend off real zombies, just brain zombies.  I guess the fact that I got into the car and went, zombies or no, is a sign of progress.  There’s no quick cure for Panic Disorder.  The zombies are still wandering freely, though I have better coping skills than I may have a few months ago.  I wish that I had something more positive to close this post with, but I don’t.  I did it.  I survived.  Congrats, Liz!

Panic Disorder: How It Began

So, how did my Panic Disorder begin?

I’ve been having panic attacks for years now, but until recently they only occurred sporadically and didn’t really affect my life. I’d have to leave the movie theater early, or pull off of the highway to calm down. That was about it. Annoying and scary, but you move on.

My first almost-taste of panic disorder began about two years ago. Driving through a remote part of Texas, I was caught in a really, really serious rain storm. The kind where you can’t even THINK about driving, and only hope to pull off to the side safely. And then I was nearly hit by a careening semi truck. Nobody got hurt, but it was really scary. And after that, for about six months I simply could NOT drive in the rain. I’d try, but I’d never make it more than half a mile before I got dizzy, nauseated, short of breath, faint, and my heart would go absolutely NUTS. I had to cancel appointments and call in sick to work several times. Fortunately, though, this issue went away pretty much on its own. I did have to force myself to drive even when I was afraid a few times. But then one day I was driving, and it was raining, and I realized that it was just fine. Problem… solved?  Who knows how that worked?

And then I was pretty okay for a while. Until this spring.

Recently, I had begun rock climbing. I thought it was super cool. It was great exercise and I was proud of myself for doing a thing that was kind of scary. On this particular day I went climbing with a friend. I didn’t feel too great, but I put myself on the wall anyway. And about halfway up the wall, I realized that things weren’t going to go well. I felt really, really faint. Like, not just panic attack faint, but blackness creeping in faint. I called down to my partner that I needed to come down, but I don’t think he heard me because I couldn’t speak loudly. And then I lost control of my body and just fell.  I blacked out for a short time.  Thank goodness we were belaying!

I ended up being really, really sick after that, for a while. I don’t think I’ve ever been that sick. Doctors weren’t really sure what had happened. They suspected that it had to do with my hypertension and maybe supraventricular tachycardia (that means sometimes your heart gets weird and it sucks but it’s not dangerous). And that’s it. Sorry that was horrible and traumatic and embarrassing, but you’re fine! Here are some pills for that. Go on, live your life some more!

That’s where things got really hairy. I felt pretty crappy for the next couple of weeks, and this didn’t seem all that weird to anyone. I took some time off of work and rested. The few times I did leave the house during that period were difficult, but hey, I was sick or something.

But then life encroached, and I had to make money or be homeless and hungry or move in with my grandma or something. I scheduled some work. I was a professional house cleaner at the time. I knew it would be hard since after two weeks, I’d become lazy, but hey, I used to do this twice a day, every day and did just fine. I can do just this one, right?

Truth is, I could. And I did. The whole time I felt extremely, faint, dizzy, and short of breath and frequently had to sit down to try to calm heart palpitations. My hands and feet went numb and tingly.  I felt so horrible and was so afraid of fainting again, or having some kind of health crisis, that I cried through most of it. And at this early stage, neither I nor my doctors were sure that there wasn’t something actually wrong with me. The thing that’s so hard to understand about panic attacks is that your symptoms are so real and severe that it can seem almost impossible that it’s all in your head.  But it was, I think.  It would take months to be pretty sure that it was just panic attacks.

Things didn’t get any better from there. I tried to keep going to work, but it wasn’t working. And my brain decided that anywhere I ever had a panic attack was too scary to revisit. So, one by one, I dropped clients.  Within six weeks I had gone from running a business with moderate success and maintaining a full cleaning schedule to maybe one or two cleans a month and an overflowing inbox.  It wasn’t just clients, either. A couple of panic attacks, and the grocery store became off limits. The bank. The hardware store. Anywhere outside of a certain zone on the city map. Even fun places, like music venues, bars, or friends’ houses. And you can FORGET going out of town to see family.

In the early stages, I was seeing a therapist. My symptoms were so severe that even the he was convinced that I had a legitimate health issue. I don’t know…maybe I do. I didn’t really stick around to hash that out with him, though, because it wasn’t long before my therapist became way too scary.  I do regularly see a doctor, but at my economic status, my care is usually rushed and often a bit sub-par. But I have come to believe more and more that somewhere along the line my brain got cross-wired, and it needs some help to get back on track. I’m still irrationally terrified of my body, but rationally I know it’s probably in my head.  I’m on a waiting list to see a psychiatrist, but I’ll be lucky to get in by Christmas. So I’d better start doing something, anything about it.

Coming next: Adventures with having to go to the county courthouse for a totally benign, non-criminally related matter!

Panic Disorder: A New Thing!

Hey, all three of my readers!  Long time no see!

I’ve decided to use this blog for a new purpose, for the moment.  I might undecide that tomorrow, delete this post, and never do it again.  I’m a follow-through lady like that.  But now it seems like a good idea to share with my friends and the internet about some trouble I’ve been experiencing lately: Panic Disorder!  Gross!

Here’s a short definition:

People with panic disorder have sudden and repeated attacks of fear that last for several minutes. Sometimes symptoms may last longer. These are called panic attacks. Panic attacks are characterized by a fear of disaster or of losing control even when there is no real danger. A person may also have a strong physical reaction during a panic attack. It may feel like having a heart attack. Panic attacks can occur at any time, and many people with panic disorder worry about and dread the possibility of having another attack.

You can find more in depth information at the National Institute of Mental Health website.  But basically Panic Disorder is all about being scared of almost everything almost all the time even though for the most part you know that it’s ridiculous.  And, as a common adjunct to Panic Disorder, people often develop Agoraphobia.  I have this in spades!

Agoraphobia, contrary to popular belief, is not a fear of open spaces.  It’s really more of a fear of new or unsafe places.  Open spaces can definitely contribute, though.  Agoraphobia means a lot more to me, though.  It’s the fear of being unable to escape or reach a safe place.  It’s a fear of having a panic attack in public.  It’s a fear of being stuck in an uncomfortable position, anywhere.  Agoraphobia-induced situations can range from large things like professional sports games or concerts, all the way down to teeny tiny things, like taking a shower.  

So, why blog about it, do you ask?  Well, it’s not for pity or consolation or out of hope for help or special treatment from my readers.  I’m really blogging about this for ME.  Putting this issue out into the public forum seems to me to have the potential to help me therapeutically by creating a sense of accountability for what I’m DOING to solve this problem, and by forcing me to be honest with myself and in the eyes of others.  Hopefully this will help me to maintain my sense of perspective while coping with a disorder that distorts reality so pervasively.  And hey, if there are any other panicky folks out there reading, maybe I can help you not feel so alone.  Because god knows it’s a lonely road.