- #COFFEE BUZZ OR PANIC ATTACK YOU MAKE THE CALL HOW TO#
- #COFFEE BUZZ OR PANIC ATTACK YOU MAKE THE CALL SKIN#
When I strip back the lies and falsities, those few days after a panic attack are the days where I am most at peace. Having panic disorder has taught me more acting skills than a single drama class ever could.
#COFFEE BUZZ OR PANIC ATTACK YOU MAKE THE CALL HOW TO#
Panic attacks have taught me how to lie and fake and convince those I love that everything is alright, everything is fine. I am able to go out to dinner after a panic attack, but I tell everyone that the scratch marks are just from my siblings. I can make a Facetime call with friends look effortless and disguise the dried tears as simply sleep deprivation. I have done it so well that I have learned how to catch my breath and answer a phone call right after an attack. I have convinced so many people in my life that I’m “OK,” I almost believe it myself. I may be struggling to find air and shaking constantly, wondering if anyone else knew what it was like to feel as if death sat next to you. I may be dry and scratched, falling asleep at the dinner table, and convincing you that I just wasn’t hungry today. Yet despite these struggles, expect me to be fine afterwards. Those five minutes will physically change me for a week. The five minutes that are spent searching for breath and drowning in tears will ruin me. It will turn my body into a wretched beast with clear physical imperfections that could last me one minute or seven days. The panic attack will break into my home, sneak into my body and truly attack. I will be fatigued for days and take naps for hours, because those five minutes of panicking were capable of making me lose all of my energy for a week. And I will have scratch marks on my thighs from trying to keep my body grounded, as if gripping my body will keep me and my brain from floating deeper into my deadly thoughts.
#COFFEE BUZZ OR PANIC ATTACK YOU MAKE THE CALL SKIN#
My face and skin become dry for days from the sheer amount of tears I shed during a panic attack. I may be breathing normally, but inside it feels like my lungs are struggling to get air, struggling to obtain the one thing I need to keep my heart beating. And it feels as if there is never enough oxygen. I lose my appetite and if anyone even dares to feed me, the nausea overtakes the slightest hint of hunger. I sometimes feel ill for days afterwards. It is only afterwards that I realize that there is more suffering than just that initial feeling of dying. My panic attacks come as quickly as they go only a few minutes that seem like an infinity.
There is leftover emotion, leftover pain and exhaustion. Unlike a roller coaster, a panic attack doesn’t stop once it ends. It is only until minutes or hours later, once you can breathe again, once you remember how to stop crying, once you can be thankful that you are alive, that the roller coaster drops and ends. Except the drop never happens, and you are stuck at the very top with your heart racing and hands shaking. It is a roller coaster, slowly easing upwards before a huge drop - waiting for the inevitable. If you have ever experienced a panic attack, then you know what this is like. It is much more than the feeling of death. The feeling is something much more than antagonizing dread. Some people would use a word like “fear” or “agony” to describe this. The rush of blood, the fast pace of my heart rate, the moment right before the first tear falls. It seems like my entire life has been spent searching for that one word that matches my internal definition. A strict and specific word to encapsulate one of the cruelest feelings I have ever known. I wish there was a word that captured the feeling of a panic attack.
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