thebookofsoul

The first time that I had a panic attack I was twelve, I thought it was asthma and I could not find my inhaler and so I sat on the living room floor gasping for air and feeling desperate. My mom watched thinking that It was a ploy to win the argument. We had been fighting for hours. During this time my parents were going separate ways, it was an affair. Guess who knew every secret? Yes, it was me. I was told that if nobody knew what was going on in their new relationship that I could always get what I want. It was a lot to carry at that age. I remember sitting in front of the family doctor and mom’s crying because all of a sudden I have asthma and she has put the blame on herself but as soon as we walk out of there, I am faced with the reality that my life will continue this way. Dad asks question and I am my mother’s secret keeper.

I am fine now, you know therapy helps I guess. You sit and talk in front of a stranger and you are lucky if they do not invalidate your feelings. I hated talking to a therapist because I always got the, “But hey! You do not have a bad life.” Thanks man, I would know that. Aren’t you supposed to like help? I saw two therapists. One as an adolescent and one at the age of 20. I went to a few sessions before realizing that it was easier to write my troubles down than to be told how to feel. I mentioned the anxiety, I was told not to self-diagnose. In the end I was diagnosed with anxiety and mild depression. She asked what it felt like.

The best way that I can explain it is a constant gasp for air, the inside of my head gets loud, my heart is pumping fast and my palms are sweaty. I feel it all at once! I can’t stop my leg from shaking, it is my coping mechanism. I immediately go into fight or flight mode which causes trembles in my hands and knees. Not everyday is this way. I have good days. I also have days where it is hard to get out of bed and I promise that I am not lazy, it is just that it is easier to avoid any sort of contact with the outside world. I feel powerless and weak. How could a 7 letter word have so much power over me? How does it dictate whether it will be a good day or not?

I am someone you would consider high functioning. I go to work, complete my classes with good grades and make time for friends and family. I get up and get ready even on the days where I want to be curled up under my sheets because my bed is my safe space. I am also in a relationship, he does not understand what I feel but he tries and he asks questions.

I feel as if I am surviving while everyone around me is living. I recently found out that putting ice on my neck is a great way to help me relax. It sort of brings me back to life. I will continue to find ways to cope with my mental disorder. I do not blame it on my parents but I would say that the relationship with them was definitely a factor among other things.