Monday, September 08, 2008

Looking for Soap.

This post is quite intense, but if there is anyone out there going through something similar, I want this to be available for them to read.
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He clenched his fists.

“Oh fuck. Not again.”

Panic set in yet one more time that afternoon. It would be the seventh by his count.

The feeling was all too familiar - almost as though some internal neurotic receptor set off small sticks of dynamite throughout his body, detaching ligaments from skin letting his innards slide out onto the floor.

Hollow.

“Don't fight it. Don't fight it. Oh God don't fight it. You will just panic more.”

He closed his mouth and inhaled through his nose.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven...”

He held his breath for three counts and exhaled.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven...”

It was an exercise his counselor had told him to try. When a panic attack sets in, he would breathe through his nose for seven counts, hold for three, then exhale through his mouth for eleven counts – it looked silly but it was better than hyperventilating. He wasn't about to go through that again. One month ago to the day he had an attack so bad it ended with hyperventilation in the emergency room. The doctor was very kind and explained what was going on. Until that point he hadn't realized what he was experiencing could be categorized or defined. At first the news was exhilarating. Now that he knew what it was he could fight it!

That's the catch with panic attacks, however. You can't fight them. If you do it just makes them worse.

He broke out in a cold sweat.

“All the feelings you're having right now are NORMAL.” his counselor assured him. It was all part of the stress he was going through that would be ending soon.

“It's ending soon and once things start to follow a pattern you WILL be ok.” her voice was so relaxing and made him feel so much better. If only he could make an appointment to see her on the spur of the moment!

He tried to remember the thought process she had told him to use. There were three thoughts he was supposed to acknowledge to help him stay focused. He pulled out the paper from their last meeting. It was permanently folded in his wallet.

“What are you doing?”

He was at the supermarket looking at soap. It was just soap! What did that have to do with anything? Why can't he just look at some fucking soap? Is that too much to ask?? He just wanted to see what lavender soaps there were because lavender is supposed to be calming!

“How intense are the feelings?”

She would ask him to quantify them in their appointments. He was always bad at that. It always felt like a 10 on a scale of 1 being “Chill” and 10 being “Batshit Strung Out” but it couldn't always be a 10, could it? Could he really be that unstable? Could he even trust his brain anymore? Was he losing his mind?

The waves of emptiness crammed his thoughts and pushed out any logic. He unzipped again.

Plop.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven...”

On to the next question. He had to push forward.

“What are your thoughts?”

This was a hard one as well. Panic is a product of the subconscious mind. It doesn't necessarily come from specific thoughts. It's just an overall feeling. Or is it? He didn't know anymore. He didn't care. All he wanted to do was get the hell out of the store and hide in his car. Hide and drive. That was his safety maneuver. Hide in the car and drive very fast down the freeway. He started to bolt for the parking lot.

“Just get past the produce and then you're almost free.”

As he jogged through the store, he thought about his driving. It was a method of escape and although he was terrified inside, he hadn't killed anyone yet nor had he even been pulled over. In fact, he was really good at driving down the freeway in the midst of a panic attack. He even followed the speed limit.

Wait. This meant something. He paused by the oranges.

“Oh...now...see that's a good thing. You're very strong, you know. Who can say that they have done that? You're actually really good at that.”

His body was slowly reattaching.

“You are very good at taking care of yourself as a whole, really – not just when you're driving. This entire month, through all these panic attacks, you've still made it to work. You've still made it to the grocery store. You've still been able to transact business and never left your credit card behind, forgot your receipt or your bag...you've even remembered to not only make a lunch for work, but bring it too! That's so wonderful!”

His breathing started to get more steady.

“You are really strong and you are safe with yourself. You are the safest person I know. I completely trust you.”

He started to well up with tears.

“You are safe.”

He needed to wipe his nose.

“You are safe and I love you.”

He calmly got into the car and blew his nose on a napkin from his stash in the glove box. It felt good – almost like all the bad thoughts were coming off onto that bright yellow napkin with the word “TACO” written in sombreros on it. That made him laugh. Laughing felt glorious.

The sunshine through the windshield warmed his face and he thought he might go for a walk in the park once he got home.

“I trust you and I love you. Really. Things are going to be just fine.”

He believed it, too.

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If you or someone you know is experiencing anxiety or panic attacks, have them speak with a medical professional. That is the most important step. In addition, you may want to show them this page. The information on here is incredible.

Panic Attacks

Thank you.

2 comments:

liljackmonkey said...

Thank you... You know what else you are really good at? Writing... among many other things. Keep it up. Love you!

Pjamms said...

Thank you. Love you too! :)