When the Panic Attacks part 2
I wrote a couple of weeks ago about what it felt like to have a panic attack.
But that’s not the end of the story.
Sometimes I can head them off at the pass (so to speak). Sometimes I can silence the negative panic with a positive environment. To totally saturate my brain with the laughter and love and smiles of those around me that it fills me up and drowns out the bad. Sometimes I can channel that frenetic energy into something else.
And sometimes I can’t.
I am not an expert. I have no degrees. Taken no classes. Someone may read this and say that I’m crazy and it turns out that these things only help me. Okay.
I just have experience. And if my experience can help someone else, then I’m going to write them down. No matter how small they may seem.
Again, this is not a list of the ‘end all and be all’ of getting through a panic attack. And it’s not even a comprehensive list for me. Just the main cast. And if they work for me, maybe they’ll work for you.
So, first and foremost…
1. DO NOT TELL ME TO CALM DOWN
This is the most important lesson anyone who loves someone else who has anxiety can learn. Do not tell them to calm down. Telling someone in the middle of a panic attack to calm down is like telling someone running to slow down their heart rate. Sure, sure, that MIGHT be possible. If the person is a world class marathon runner with thousands of miles under their belt and a deep understanding of meditative practices and how to utilize them while running. Then sure, they might be able to ‘calm down’ and slow their heart.
Usually when a person says this, they’re trying to just STOP the situation. They can’t understand it. They see that nothing is actually wrong. And they see that I’m hurting. So, despite its ineffectiveness and perceived callousness, telling me to calm down IS an act of love. (Try to remember that even when you want to push them away.)
Instead, be productive. YOU, the observer, be productive. Don’t demand that I do more work on top of what I’m already doing. (And what I am doing? Fighting to not drown.) If we are close, tell me that everything is okay. Not going to be okay. Everything IS okay. Ask if there’s a problem or task you can take out of my hands. Or if we’re really, really close, just take the problem or task anyway. Stir the pot, play with the kids, set the table, carry my bags, get the information from someone else, send me to a quiet corner. (I’ll probably cry. But that’s usually a good sign. It means you got it right.)
If we’re not close, run interference. Don’t let a million people ask me questions. And remind me to take deep breaths Mr. Miyagi style.
The only time you can tell me to calm down is if I’m out of control and looking like I might break something or myself. And that’s not how my attacks go.
2. Make a List
Seriously. I always used to make fun of my mom with her lists but I totally get it now. There’s so much you’re balancing that things can fall through the cracks and never mind a merry-go-round from Hell determined to break your mind into a million pieces.
This is when it helps to make lists. I’m starting to spin. I can feel it. My brain is starting to lose focus and I’m starting to look around, knowing that I’ll never get everything done because I can’t even think of everything that needs to get done, and I’m going to miss something and then the family is going to fall apart.
OR I’ll start something and then move to something else without finishing it because “This has to get done too!”
I’ll end up with four, five, six different things in the fire with NONE of them getting completed. Which doesn’t help. Instead of just feeling like I’m not accomplishing anything there will be actual proof that I’m not accomplishing anything.
You stop. You sit. You write down everything that you want to get done or needs to get done. Even if it’s a banal, everyday chore. Even the things you’ve already accomplished. (Especially the things you’ve already accomplished.) Fed the kids breakfast? Write it down. Fed yourself? Write it down. Picked up the kitchen? Write it down.
Then, and this is the big part, don’t kill yourself if you don’t get everything done on the list. This practice isn’t about completing it all but giving yourself a safety net. I’ve written lists that filled a whole page in two or three columns. Then didn’t get everything done on them. And that was fine.
It helped me know that I wasn’t going to forget something. That I wasn’t going to drop all the Hemness family balls flying in the air. That my brain, spinning as it was, didn’t get to take away my ability and mess something up. And it provides a path for me to follow.
A nice side benefit of the lists? It allows me to see the stuff that isn’t nearly as important and can be put off till another day or handed off to somebody else to handle.
3. Get it done
A side effect of spinning is that it makes me feel like I’m lost in the woods at night. I can’t see a way forward. It took me a long time to recognize that that was a symptom of a panic attack. I wasn’t incompetent. Or incapable. My IT was just blinding me at the moment.
Sometimes the best way to fight that blindness is to be productive.
Three options:
· Exercise
Go for a walk. Go for a run. Go to the gym. Hand off the kids and go by yourself.
· Get creative. Literally.
Do something artistic or creative. This OFTEN helps me. Cooking something different. Coloring in a coloring book (Yes, I have my own that my sons are not allowed to color in. And they usually aren’t allowed to use my markers either). Even something as simple as painting a box can help switch up the path of my brain.
When I was really, really bad, my mom would often ask when the last time was that I did anything creative. And then she would send me money with the orders to go to Hobby Lobby and find something to paint or color or cross stitch. YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE GOOD AT IT. When I was younger I would draw a picture as ugly as I possibly could and then tear it to pieces and stuff them in the garbage. Once I even set the picture on fire (Don’t worry, we already one going in the fireplace).
Does that sound dark? Sure, maybe a little. But it helped. Now, I work to create something. Because creation is harder than destruction and takes more brain power and focus. Writing, cooking, coloring, painting, drawing. Create something.
· Remember the list?
Get to it. Focus on one thing on the list and get it done. Then focus on the next. When you start to look around and start to drop the activity because “This has to get done too!” You stop, you remember your list, and finish the task in front of you. Write that new one on your list too if it’s not already there but then go back to the previous task and finish it. THEN YOU CROSS IT OFF. I’m telling you, every cross off is a nice “Shut up” to my mental monster.
4. Figure out how you can describe it AND THEN reach out if you need it
This is for yourself and for your loved ones.
When I finally was TOTALLY honest with my husband about my anxiety and how it felt, I described it as being stuck on a merry-go-round that was spinning out of control and I couldn’t get off. No matter how hard I wanted to, I couldn’t get off and I couldn’t make it stop and couldn’t make anybody else understand because they could just hop off theirs.
That was a huge help. Now when I’m having a bad day or an attack I can just tell him “I’m starting to spin” or “I’m really spinning today” and he understands.
Having this short hand makes communicating so much easier and helps me to feel safe. I’ve used that vernacular throughout this essay too. It’s all encompassing and able to get those who don’t have to deal with this stuff a clear picture.
I’ve read a few articles too that talk about giving it a name. This can not only be your short hand but can lessen any fear or apprehension you may be carrying around about the anxiety rearing up. Most of the examples I read were pretty innocuous. Like Bob or Fred or whatever. If that works for you, great. Do it. Mine has a name but I don’t reference it that way to other people. I only reference it that way to myself or in my writing. And its name isn’t genial. It’s pretty reflective of what it is. A mental monster that tries to shut me down with fear.
The whole purpose of being able to identify it is to be able to reach out and tell someone when you’re struggling. The first step to getting off the spinning ride of doom is to let people know you’re stuck on it. If you’re putting your energy into hiding it then you don’t have enough left to look for the exit. Or to see the hands stretched out to you offering aid.
Does that mean you should broadcast it when you’re having a panic attack? I mean you could, but I wouldn’t. I don’t trust that everyone would respond to me in a loving and safe way. And not because they’re being mean but because they don’t understand.
I realize that I’m contradicting myself. Saying that you should be honest and then saying that there are times when you should hide it. This is about keeping it under wraps till you’re somewhere safe or with someone safe.
I have a few friends that I can send a prayer SOS too. I even have a couple friends that if they ask what they can do to help I might actually tell them the truth. And I have my best friend living with me that will hold me or get the entire household away from me, depending on the attack. (And then he’ll usually pour me a glass of something nice and cold and say he loves me)
5. Ride it out
When I was in labor with my oldest, a nurse (who is now a friend) gave me some advice. Or really, gave me an order that only later I took as advice for my life.
I decided to deliver my oldest naturally and I was right at Transition. If you’ve delivered naturally, you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, let’s just say that this is when the real labor work and pains start. Never mind the hours you’ve already gotten through. This is when it gets real.
And man, was it getting real. Hello, Contractions. I thought I knew you. Turns out I was wrong.
This wonderful woman was monitoring my son’s heartbeat and I started to panic because how on earth could I do this? There was no way. It hurt too badly. And I wasn’t even that close!
She shut down that panic real quick.
“No ma’am. You are not going to let this pain ride you. You are going to ride it and stay on top of it. Not drown under it.”
And she was 100% percent right.
Sometimes you just have to ride it out. Who knew that advice given in labor about pain management would end up being a mantra for mental health?
Sometimes you just have to wait and ride out the attack. There is no distracting from it, no drowning it out, no over powering it. You just have to be in it.
And this can be truly terrifying. Because your brain is lying to you the whole time. Your body is trying to convince you that something is WRONG. With you or with the world or with your spouse or with your friends or with your family. SOMETHING IS WRONG.
Except, no it isn’t. Your body and brain are mistaken. Nothing is wrong.
You’re going to have to ride out that pain. And not let it drown you. You will stay on top of it, not let it trick you. And you will ride it out.
Because it will end. It will. The wave will meet the beach, break, and retreat back to the sea.
If you are living in a world when the wave never meets the beach and you keep getting pounded by mountain after mountain of water, then this is when you go see a doctor. Because you are not meant to go through life drowning.
I threw a party awhile ago and some friends came over to help out. I was HARD spinning before they got there and knew it was bad enough that I wouldn’t be able to keep it from them. They are fantastic people and our families have become true loved ones to each other. So I decided to be honest.
I told them exactly what was happening.
How I was feeling, all of it.
They asked if they needed to contact everyone to cancel or make excuses for me (and I love them so, so much for that). Then they asked exactly what they needed to do to help me. And I told them.
I need to not hide it. I need to ride it out. If I put energy into trying to keep it from you then it will only make it worse. I just need to just be in it. And it will get better. It will.
And it did.
Unfortunately, there isn’t a formula for this stuff. A + B doesn’t always equal C. Sometimes one thing will work and other times it won’t.
This is why it is important to know yourself. And to not hide anything from yourself. You’ll start to figure out your triggers and the stuff that can help and where you can go to be safe when nothing helps. And you need to feel safe to not hide it.
Trial and error. Learn and relearn.
It will get better. It will. The waves will retreat out to the sea. And you will be standing on the beach again. Dry and warm and safe.
