doosey's Story
I was 40 years old the first time I relized that I was having an anxiety or panic attack. I had just turned 40 about a month or two before I had this attack and I had been really dreading turning this age for some reason. I had cryed for two weeks before my birthday and didn't understand why? I was sitting at home one evening watching tv and just relaxing, or so I thought, when I felt this surge come over me and it scared me to death. I din't know what it was. I became really nervous. I got up and went to take a hot bath and then I got my kids and told them we were going for a drive. The feelings subsided and everything was ok for several months. In fact during the next 18 months, I only experienced 2 more of these attacks and seemed to know what that were and I was handling them. Needless to say these were just the begining and these were the very mild ones. I had told my doctor about these and he prescribed xanax for me to take when I felt one coming on. I didn't take one for 6 months or so. I started a new job and a very stressful one at that in October, 2000. In December, my daughter and I went to the mall in Dallas to shop for Christmas. I was feeling very good and excited to be going shopping. We got to the mall and parked and while we were walking in my heart kind of flutter and I became very nervous. I told Lacy, (my daughter) I had to sit down for a minute and then we went to the bathroom and I got a cold wet paper towel and put on my face and tried to go to Abercrombie's. We left that store and I told her that we had to go to the car. We got to the car and I kept watching the clock and waiting for this one to go away in about 5-10 minutes like the others had, but it didn't. I drove all the way back to Greenville, and stopped at my physicians office before they closed at noon and went in to see if someone could see me. By this time I was getting hysterical and trying very hard not to cry. The doctor saw me and looked at my xanax bottle and said "Well you take these 3 times a day, maybe thats what you need to do". Ths doctor that was at the Saturday clinic had no sympothy what so ever, but by thetime I got in to see him I was feeling a bit better. I guess my xanax had kicked in by now. Lacy and I just decided to shop at the mall in Greenville and I was feeling so much better. Within the next several weeks I started experiencing these attacks more frequently and more severe. I talked to the doctor that I was working for and they put me on 20 mg Celexa. I took this for 1 1/2 years and then it seem to quit working. By now, its June 2002 and I could not eat or function without the constant anxiety and worry. I started taking Paxil 40 mg. It took me a couple of months to start feeling better, but before then I was crying and just barely making it through the day. I would come home crying and my husband just didn't understand. I would ask him what is wrong with me and he would just reply " I don't know, but with all the doctors that you are around every day, I wish you would find out. Needless to say our relationship suffered because of the not caring attitude. Sometimes I would feel like I had to handle this on my own because I could not find anyone at the time that knew anything about this and why I was having these attacks. I felt like people at work thought I was a hypocondriac, so I just kept things to myself. There would nights that I would wake up with horrible panic attacks that would last all night long, sometimes causing me to go the er just to feel safe.
The 40 mg of paxil seem to be working and I was doing fine till I split up with my husband in April 2004 and I started taking 10 mg of lexapro. I thought I felt so much better on that med than the paxil until about 3 months later. I was at work and my heart flutter and wouldn't stop. I told my office manager and she took my pulse and it was fine, but when she took my blood pressure she said she could hear my heart skipping beats. It finally stopped that afternoon. I went home and was woke up at 1 am with my heart doing this again, but I talked my self into not worrying and I went back to sleep. I was woke up at 6 am with this happening again. I got up and got ready for work. When I got to work I called the cardiologst and went over to see him and they did a echo and he said my heart was fine, but that maybe I needed to have my thyroid checked. This was on Friday, so I had to wait until Monday to go to the lab and get blood drawn to check this, so I sat at home all weekend with my heart doing this fluttering and racing. I kept looking on the computer for things about anxiety and panic and finally come across this site. This was in July of 2004. This was the beginning of some of my understanding of just how common this disorder is and that I was not alone in this. Everyone on here was so supportive and I finally have relized this is something that I have learned to accept and this is who I am instead of trying to figure out why me and where did this come from. I don't know if this all stemed from my childhood, or my kids growing up and leaving home or what ever other thing that has happened to me in my life, but just knowing that when I am feeling down and anxious and panicky that I can come on here and know that you guys are going to be here for me means the world to me and I have learned so much from everyones expereinces.
Thanks to each and everyone of you guys for your stories and replies to mine for without this site I am not so sure what or where I would be today.
Grief is how one reacts to a loss. Grief reactions may be experienced in response to physical losses, such as a death or in the response to symbolic or social losses such as a divorce or loss of a job. All loss involves the absence of someone loved or something that fulfills a significant need in one’s life.
doll84 Personal Story
My childhood for me is a mixture of emotions. I was an only child. When I was six my mother moved to a different country. She moved away for better opportunities for herself - she was never going to get anywhere in a dead end town. I dont think she meant for us to be apart for so long and I believe that she wanted to make things better for herself so she could make things better for me. I also believe there were other reasons for her departure. Her parents died when she was young and she was sent to live with other family members and wasnt treated very well. When she got pregnant with me at twenty she was sent to a home for unmarried pregnant women. I can just imagine the shame she was made to feel as our family is Catholic. I think having me made her feel trapped and it was not the life she wanted for herself, my mother is a very intelligent woman. Also years later when I was twelve she explained to me that she was gay. Also not something widely accepted in that town twenty odd years ago.
I have never known my father and I dont know anything about my parents relationship. I know who he is but Ive never seen or spoken to him. He has never made an effort to get to know me. I have in recent years learnt that he married and has had more children.
I lived with an aunt for the next six years and saw my mother occasionally. I remember recieving postcards from all over the world.
Her departure greatly affected the mother/daughter relationship between us. I have never been particularly close to her and I dont think shes very maternal. She missed out on my growing up so to speak. When I did live with her again I was nearly a teenager. We in effect were strangers. I missed her alot when she left. I was always jealous of other kids who had both their parents around and would have given anything to have had just her around back then. I remember looking out my bedroom window just willing to see her walking up the street. It was tough. I was also sexually abused around this time by a member of my extended family.
I do however have some happy memories of my childhood, I was well cared for by my aunt and wanted for nothing. I had alot more than some other kids in my neighbourhood had. I remember happy times with my friends and cousins.
When I was about nine or ten I became obsessed about dying and followed a routine every night before going to sleep. I was convinced that if I didnt say my prayers or lie in a certain position I wasnt going to wake up in the morning. This went on for a while but then kind of subsided.
My early teenage years were relatively uneventful. I moved around a bit with my mother and attended a few different schools. I wasnt particularly happy but things were not that bad either. I started taking drugs and drinking when I was about seventeen. I finished school and went to college when I was eighteen. I also had my first serious relationship around this time. It was huge for me. I was so so needy emotionally. I fell in love and it was the best thing ever but it didnt last. When the relationship ended nearly two years later I was devastated. It was history repeating itself, another person who rejected me and hurt me. That relationship was my life and hope for the future and things just went from bad to worse. I really started drinking and taking drugs. I lost alot of weight and didnt care for anything. One night in bed I couldnt sleep so I sat up and had my first panic attack, its still the worst one Ive had to date. That night will stay with me for the rest of my life, I really believed I was dying. The terror I felt was something I never ever want to feel again. For the next two years I was in a constant state of fear leading to anxiety and panic. I thought Id be better off dead. I became obsessed about dying again and was in the doctors surgery every other week with some complaint. If I read about some disease or illness Id convince myself that I had it. It was an awful awful time. In the middle of all this I found tapir and I think it was my saving grace to know that there were others like me and that I wasnt crazy. I never took any medication because I didnt want to have to rely on pills to get me out of bed in the morning. I had some sessions of psychotherapy and thought field therapy. The psychotherapy stopped after 4 sessions because I didnt like the therapist and although I liked the thought field therapy it was terribly expensive and I couldnt afford it on a regular basis. Gradually things began to get better for me, i learned more about my condition and how to handle it by myself.
After six months apart my boyfriend and I got back together. I had accepted the relationship was over, he was the one who wanted to try again. This time around it was a much healthier relationship and I wasnt as insecure. In a way we both believe that break up was the best thing that ever happened to us. I learned that it was ok to be on your own and it made me stronger. I also learned that you cant rely on someone else to make you happy. He helped me through the anxiety and panic and was always there when I needed him, ready to drop everything. He is the only person who knows about the sexual abuse. I feel incredibly blessed to have him. We are together nearly five years now.
In recent months Im much happier in myself and I cant remember the last time I had a panic attack. I still have those bad days though and I probably always will. I am going to have more therapy as I still have some demons to fight particularly regarding the abuse. As an adult I crave stability and normality and cant wait to have a family of my own, probably to make up for the one I never really had.
Despite what happened in my past Im incredibly thankful for the life that I do have. Im lucky. I wake up everyday in paradise compared to where other people around the world wake up. All of this has given me a great sense of empathy towards other peoples suffering.
My journey is far from over but with the love of a good man, great friends and a fantastic support network here at tapir I cant lose! Thank you to everyone.
The first evidence for the brain being understimulated was introduced with the use of more advanced electroencephalograms (EEG or brainwave studies) by Joel Lubar from the University of Tennessee. He demonstrated that when ADD children and teenagers performed a concentration task there was an increased amount of slow brain wave activity in their frontal lobes, instead of the usual increase in fast brain wave activity that was seen in the majority of the control group..........
Anxiety was never something I never knew a lot about. In fact, before I had my first panic attack, I had no idea what a panic attack was or that it even existed. That changed for me a little over 6 years ago.
I was 21 and living in the middle of the desert with my mom. I hated living there, being that far away from my friends, my boyfriend, and my old life. It was too hot, too remote, too small of a town, and there was nothing to do. Think Hollywood becoming small-town USA overnight and that’s how I felt. Before I’d had a life and a job and was surrounded by friends and cities and could drive anywhere I wanted to and sit on a beach. Now I was stuck in the middle of nowhere, 2 hours from the closest “city”, with tumbleweeds and sand in 120 degree heat. It was a shock to me.
One weekend I was driving alone to see my boyfriend who lived three hours away. We traded off, both driving every other weekend, and it was a long and seriously boring drive through the California desert. I remember thinking that I had a lot to do that weekend. I was in school, taking a full load, and I had a ton of homework to do, and I didn’t really want to be driving, and I was tired. I started to get a feeling that something wasn’t right. My mom’s friend had died suddenly, and I remember being worried about my mom. I started to really worry that something was wrong, so I took out my cell phone and started calling my friends and family to make sure they were all right. I couldn’t get ahold of my mom at all, but everyone assured me that they were all okay, but it still didn’t ease the worry. Then I started to get a tingling in my arms, and my legs. I was on this remote section of highway, a shortcut I had taken to get to the freeway, as opposed to taking the long way out of town. I was about 30 minutes from home and cell phone reception was not great at all. I finally got off that road because I hit the freeway and pulled over. I couldn’t seem to get enough air and I was so thirsty, and I was feeling really claustrophobic in my car. I kept calling my mom and never got ahold of her. I finally called 911 because I really felt like I was going to pass out. I waited 45 minutes for the ambulance to find me by the side of the road. They hooked me up to a heart monitor and everything was normal, just a little elevated. I kept feeling scared and worried and then finally got ahold of my mom and told her what happened. She came to get me and we drove home, me driving behind her and stopping every 15 minutes because I’d start to shake, or go numb, or something.
I spent the next week in the house, sleeping with my mom, afraid of being alone in the house. She’d leave to run an errand and I’d call her hysterical because I kept feeling that horrible panicky feeling in the pit of my stomach. She finally convinced me to go to the doctor.
He diagnosed me with Generalized Anxiety Disorder with Panic Attacks. He gave me Xanax and prescribed Paxil. I still couldn’t go to class, and now I was afraid to drive, so I never wanted to leave the house…and I didn’t. I kept sleeping with my mom because I couldn’t stand to be alone in my room. The Paxil made things 10 times worse for me, so the doctor switched me to Zoloft and I started seeing a psychologist. The psychologist started helping me use visualization techniques to feel safe. The Zoloft helped me not be so down. The Xanax helped me function on a daily basis. I felt completely lost and had no idea what to do to find my way back. No one seemed to understand what I was going through, not even my mom, and that was the hardest part to deal with.
One night I stumbled on tAPir. I don’t remember what I had been searching for, except for more information on anxiety and what to do about it. I found chat first before reading the board. I can remember who was there that first day I stumbled in there. Everyone was very welcoming and I remember saying I’d come back. I don’t remember how long it was before I met the people who would save my life one night at a time. We formed a “group”, the five of us. We were the late night chatters, the people in there every night, during the middle of the night, offering support to each other and anyone else who wandered in. We formed a strong bond and were there for each other, no matter what was going on in our lives. I wasn’t sleeping at all because of the Zoloft, so I was up and awake, lonely and miserable, but these people helped me, every night, without fail. It made it that much easier to cope because I knew I wasn’t alone.
I was able to start driving again to see my boyfriend. Most of the time I had to stop and take Xanax along the way, or sleep off the drowsiness of the Xanax in a parking lot of a grocery store. I started thinking in increments of time. If I could make it to Mojave, I’d have lasted 45 minutes and then I could sleep. 20 minutes after that, I’d be in the next town. Once I hit that town, I knew I was halfway to Chad and safety. Once I hit the 118 freeway, I was home free because it was only 30 minutes to Chad. I knew every mile-marker along the way and exactly how many miles it was to the next sign. As long as I thought about the drive like that, I could make it with my Xanax. It was the only way I got through it.
I knew I couldn’t stay in the desert much longer. I was desperately unhappy and desperately lonely. I had my friends at tAPir, but they had lives outside of the chat room, and all I had was that chat room every night. So Chad and I decided to live together. We rented an apartment and I moved from the desert back near the town I had lived before. I stopped my Zoloft, got my old job back, and started to live my life the way I wanted to.
That was a turning point for me. I still had my Xanax, and yes I still used it, but I didn’t need it as much. I was finally taking control of my life and what I wanted to do, and I felt really good about it. My anxiety faded to nothing. I was confident, moving up in my job, living with Chad and just being happy. It ended, as things do, so I decided to make another drastic change and move back east. I’d always wanted to live on the East coast, so I got rid of the apartment we’d been living in and moved. I can’t say it was the best year of my life, living there, but I learned a lot about myself.
I learned that I can survive on my own. I learned that I was a strong, brave woman who had control over her life. I got to be the one to choose where my life went, where it was headed, and what the possible outcomes were. I learned that I can take risks and be successful. I can’t say that I was happy the entire time I was there, because it was a very hard year for me, but I can say that I learned a lot about myself.
I’ve had a lot of success with therapy over the years. I had great success with EMDR because it forced me to deal with my childhood. The therapist that practiced EMDR was also very compassionate and very caring and that helped as well.
The most important thing I’ve ever been told by a therapist is that it’s okay to be afraid. It’s okay to be unsure sometimes and scared to try new things. It really is okay to be afraid. Once I accepted that, it made things a lot easier for me. After having surgery recently and being terrified of going through it, losing my ovary, the long recovery period, the utter exhaustion, and panicking about all those things, my therapist told me again… Kate, it’s okay to be afraid. It’s the one thing I fight constantly, the feeling of not being okay. I hate feeling out of control of myself, and I hate feeling powerless or helpless. Once I accept those feelings it helps them go away.
Do I have days where I want to cry and stay in bed all day? Absolutely. Do I get up anyway and take a shower and go into work? Yeah, I do. A normal routine helps me stay on track and remember why I get up everyday. I want to live my life. I want to know that I’m making myself happy with everything I do. Do I still deal with anxiety? Sure, just not on a regular basis. Before all of this trauma in my life this year, I hadn’t had a problem with anxiety in years. Has it been hard? Completely.. Mentally, emotionally and physically draining. The important part is that I try to focus on the outcome, not the process. If I need help, I ask, not because it makes me weak, but because I want to remain strong.
I live my life in a way that’s fulfilling to me. I stumble along the way, or take detours I never intended to take, but I always remember who I am. No one can take that away from me.. Not even anxiety.