No, the title of this post isn't some clever heading or metaphor. I have been diagnosed with panic attacks. Me. How is that possible? At least that's what I though at first, but now I'm starting to get the idea as to why.
My first panic attack was last Wednesday night, and I thought it was just due to a respiratory infection. Then, wham! Friday I got another another one. Still I thought it was the cold. I went to the doc's office and I just started bawling. He (general practitioner) said he couldn't diagnose me with panic attacks based on 2 episodes, but he could tell that I was under some severe stress. "Go see a psychologist, ASAP", he said. And I did.
That same day (Dec 5) I met with a shrink and had another bawl-fest. We talked about how I had gotten to where I was, and he sent me to a psychiatrist. "OMG", I thought. "Now I need medication!?" I just went with it. I was so beaten down that I just said yes to everything.
My appointment with the psychiatrist was last Saturday, and I had another two episodes within a 40 min span that morning before my consult. I was seriously considering it wasn't psychological. Anyways, I kept my appointment with the new doc (bawled a whole lot, again) and, sure enough, I got medication: a tranquilizer and an antidepressant.
Every doctor I've seen since my first episode has said the same thing: I have trouble delegating tasks, I'm too much of a perfectionist, I have control issues, and at the same time I have issues with taking the right amount of responsibility so sometimes I just give up my responsibility to others...I just give up.
So far I feel that I am in good hands. And if I'm blogging right now it's because I thinks it's important to do so. I have no qualms about being pegged as a fruit-loop or "damaged goods". I don't believe that panic attacks are or should be stigmatic. Why should they be?
I refer to this as my wake up call. You would not believe how easily this rearranged my priorities and how meaningless some things have become. I think that I would have eventually killed myself with all of the stress I was putting up with.
My panic attacks manifest themselves as a closing up of my throat and the sensation that I can't breathe. Obviously, I feel like I'm going to choke to death. My medication has helped with that, thank goodness. But for those of you who are going through something similar, SEEK HELP FROM PROFESSIONALS. Don't let this slide. I have NO idea how some people can go through this alone, I surely couldn't. Maybe my episodes are a bit noisier than the norm, but I would never wish the sensation of sure death on anyone. And that's basically the reason I sought help so quickly.
I've had awesome support from my doctors and my family and friends. I really couldn't ask for more. Since I started with my medication, I've had about 7 pseudo-episodes. Last night was the strongest one, but it was no where near as strong as the first few episodes. I actually controlled it before it got too far. Yay, me!
Anyways, that's what I'm going through right now. I'll keep you posted on my progress.
