Post 16: Honestly, I'm not crazy

Post 16: I’ll never forget the day. It was October 17, 2007 (I remember the date – well, I had to go look it up - but it was the day a good friend of mine had a baby). I was on Highway 2 about halfway between Edmonton and Red Deer. Sun was shining; roads were good. Charli was almost 3 and Ben was 10 months, and we were heading to Calgary. Literally nothing happened. I just started to have this weird feeling in my stomach. I felt odd. My heart started to really race and my eyesight went blurry (or so it appeared to me). I started to sweat; I felt hot, shaky, and I was pretty sure I was having some medical episode in which I was going to die. In that moment all I could think about was that I was going to crash and kill us all. I pulled over, got out of the van, and tried to calm the f*ck down. I did not know what was happening, but I couldn’t stay on the side of the road. I called a friend in Red Deer and asked if I could come over. Honestly I remember nothing about the visit, just that I was petrified to continue on to Calgary, but what was I going to do? I had to keep going. Even writing it today, my heart starts to race. So I forced myself to continue on and made it safely. I did not understand what was going on but decided that I should probably stop drinking coffee…. I was convinced I must have been somehow affected by caffeine. Over the course of the next few months, I would have a series of panics attacks. Normally while I was in the grocery store with the kids. They are so scary, and I was so afraid I was going to pass out and leave my kids and who would take care of them and what would happen to my purse? Yes, those were the things running through my head. So bad, in fact, that I would sometimes leave my grocery cart full of stuff and just go home. I never seemed to have them when I was with someone else (an adult) or at home where I felt safe. I remember feeling “crazy.” I remember not knowing how to describe how I was feeling. I remember telling myself and others including my doctor, “I am NOT crazy, but something is happening to me. But I’m not crazy.” I really felt the need to emphasize the “not crazy” part. I was always outgoing, wasn’t afraid of much, loved to drive. I didn’t feel like I was the “type of person” who got anxiety. It’s interesting because I remember going to my doctor and he never diagnosed me with anything. (Maybe he wasn’t buying the “not crazy part.” Lol) Medically, according to him, I was “fine.” So back to labels. An outgoing, extrovert, confident person does not deal with anxiety, right? This doesn’t fit into “who I am.” Even when describing what I was feeling to Terrace or my family members, no one really got it. Because anxiety was still one of those things that wasn’t real. Right? Crazy people made that shit up. I was not someone who dealt with anxiety before that day, mild nervousness would be the extent. I mean, Terrace, Charli, and I ended up on a train in China without the rest of our group and I didn’t freak nearly as bad. Ben was almost born on the side of the highway in probably the coldest, worst snowstorm we’ve ever driven in, and I didn’t freak out. In fact, before having experienced it myself, I’m not even sure I thought it was real (oh, it’s f*cking real, and, no, you’re not crazy). It made me feel weak and small. I felt like my body and mind had betrayed me. In hindsight, this spell of panic attacks and anxiety did not last long (thank gawd). I attributed it to hormones post-birth and a motherhood thing where you are afraid to die and leave your children. Luckily I have something engrained in me that refused to lay down and admit defeat. I was still in the midst of dealing with all of this when I volunteered to be playschool president. And it wasn’t long after that that I started selling Norwex, which meant lots of driving and going to strange people’s homes. After this initial “spell,” I would only experience severe anxiety while flying without the kids. I guess I determined that if the kids were with me, we’d all die together and therefore not leave anyone behind. Regardless of my fear and anxiety of flying (okay, and various other activities that could result in my demise), I was not going to let this stop me. As uncomfortable as it was, and uncomfortable is a huge understatement, I figured out what worked without the use of a prescription. (I have this weird thing about being in control 😉 ) It’s an interesting thing to have such strong emotions on the inside but be able to put on a different face to the world. I was fine for years, but the panic attacks would return in 2016. I was driving downtown to do a consult for laser eye surgery, and I had a panic attack in my car alone on Jasper Avenue in the middle of very busy weekday traffic. Nowhere to pull over, no one to help me calm down. I had to force myself to find a parking lot and stop. Now, as much as I didn’t want to go inside, I forced myself. My eyesight still seemed off to me. I have no idea if everyone who has a panic attack experiences this, but for me, especially while driving, it freaks me the f*ck out. So me with my heart racing and dry mouth go do the consult. I kept thinking, “They are not going to be able to get accurate results if I, in the moment, can’t see properly.” And while I’m having it and dealing with the aftermath of it, there’s like this weird paranoia where your brain is wondering if everyone can tell what’s going on inside of you. With my pupils very dilated, I drove home, freaking out the whole way. This anxiety while driving would plague me for at least the next year (if it was only a year, it felt like forever). I was devastated. My body had failed me yet again. What was weird was I would do okay in the city, but HATED highway driving or at least driving higher speeds. Talk about a lack of freedom. I would force myself when I had to, but if I felt like it was something I could get out of, I stayed home. Since the symptom that worried me the most was what happened to my eyesight, I thought that something was “wrong” with my eyes, and if I just fixed them, then all of this would go away. Getting my eyes fixed and the healing that goes along with it, didn’t help at the time. I can say now it was the best thing I ever did, but it did not fix the anxiety. I would also experience the anxiety if I was in public alone and not able to “escape” easily. I remember going to one of Charli’s cheer competitions, and there was no edge seating, so I was in the middle of the bleachers, middle row surrounded by people. I was so uncomfortable. My heart is racing, I feel like I could pass out, I’m trying to deep breathe and remind myself there is nothing actually wrong. The funny part to me now is I’d sit there dying inside, every fiber of my being wanting to escape, convinced everyone could tell that I was some sort of “crazy” person, but I was too embarrassed to get up and make everyone move for me mere minutes after sitting down. So I’d force myself to sit there for an appropriate amount of time before doing so. I can’t even tell you how/why it goes away, but I’m super grateful that it does. Talk about something that makes you feel weak, small, and isolated. I would force myself to go places and do things, but when given the opportunity, I would bail. It made me feel very alone. There’s a lack of understanding, and fair enough, because until you’ve been there, it’s really hard to explain how scary it is. There’s judgement (or perceived judgement) from people when you constantly bail. You judge yourself for not being able to do things like attend public places alone or drive, things you’ve be able to do in the past and things ‘normal’ people do all the time. It’s a really hard place to love yourself because you don’t really love who you are because you’re no longer you. Self-love and acceptance… interesting road. So to any of you out there dealing with anxiety or panic attacks, first, you are not crazy. Second, you are not alone. Third, you are always safe. (For me, learning and really believing that, helped me deal with it). Shawn Mendes – In My Blood

May 4, 2020, 7:37 AM