The Course of A Year

One year ago today I had one of the scariest panic attacks-no, the scariest panic attack-I have ever had. My arms and legs went almost completely numb, my pulse and blood pressure skyrocketed, I was throwing up, and for the first time the fear for my life was all encompassing. Not just a passing thought, not just something I could tell myself was silly, but legitimate fear that my heart would stop or explode before it could.

Five hours away from home and family, Cheryl took me to the ER. The first time I’d been for my panic attacks. Looking back, I should have been mortified, but the fact that I was terrified overruled all other emotion.

I knew what was wrong, I knew that I was having a panic attack, but the physical symptoms that had overtaken me were more than I could handle.

This picture was taken maybe an hour and a half later, as we were waiting for the medicine they gave me to kick in, and Cheryl was texting my dad to assure him that I was okay. In all honesty, I was sure that it would look more like a cringe than a smile.

This smile says “I’m fine, don’t worry”, a smile that I’ve flashed many times when inwardly I am struggling. I was exhausted, I was in pain, I was embarrassed, and I was scared. But I was going to make sure that my dad didn’t worry too much; that anyone looking would see strength over fear. (Which is ridiculous because I was the one insisting on going to the hospital in the first place) But I hated seeing Cheryl scared, I hated knowing that I couldn’t control what was happening to me, and I hated that apparently my trust in God was not enough to protect me from these attacks. Never mind that the trip had probably not been the best idea in the first place, never mind that I’d been pressured into one particular visit that wasn’t planned and that completely freaked me out, and never mind that I didn’t know or understand any tools to help me refoucus my thoughts. If I was having an attack this bad, it meant that I wasn’t trusting in Him, right? That’s what I thought.

The rest of the weeend was rough. I was on an adrenalin blocker that made me feel weird-I knew that I was anxious and that I probably should have been having more physical symptoms than I was. But thanks to the medication I didn’t get that rush of adrenalin that would’ve kicked everything into high gear. I was physically calm (but unable to eat due to my nerves, which only made Cheryl more worried) though inwardly I was anxious and embarrassed and had a burning desire to crawl into a hole and disapear. Sleep was a welcome escape. The next day was strange, almost like there was a part of my awareness that was fiddled or asleep. The drive back feels more like a dream now than a reality. Maybe that was the meds.

In the months to follow, I stayed on the medication that I’d recieved at the ER, taking smaller doses multiple times a day as instructed by my doctor here, but it wasn’t helping. School was starting, and it took every ounce of energy that I had to get through a school day without an attack. I was skipping my last class because I felt trapped in the small, windowless, second floor room. I was dreading my favorite class because it was on the third floor. I think I even chose to skip it at least once. My stress level was skyrocketing, my anxieties never ending, and my panic attacks were happening more and more often. I was at my wits end, but even more so I could see the worry that filed my friends and families eyes as I slipped further and further into my anxieties—and that is why I finally reached out and asked for help. I started meeting with my college pastor every week to two weeks to talk through my anxiety. I had no idea what to expect, but I knew that doing something, anything, had to be better than doing nothing. So, trembling and terrified and embarassed, I slowly started opening u to Zack.

He was fantastic. Never once did he make me feel like I was less of a Christian for feeling this way. Never once did he make me feel embarassed for seeking help. Ad never once did he let me dwell on the setbacks and disapointments. I have learned so much from him in such a relatively short time. 20 sessions in total, maybe 30, but each time we met I left with some new tidbit of truth to think on. Eventually, those truths started to bleed into my everyday life. Eventually, his attempts to have me reorient my thinking started to work. Eventually, I started to understand just what he was asking me to do. And once I did, it was like a lightbulb went off. No, it didn’t suddenly make uncomfortable situations any easier, but my way of thinking was completely different. And this, this did make those times of anxiousness easier.

In theory, the approach he taught me is quite simple. I have little to no control over what the external factor of life throw at me, however, I have complete control over how I react and respond to them. When faced with something that makes me anxious, I can either say “oh no, I don’t think I can do that”, or I can choose to day “this will be difficult, I cannot do it alone, but this circumstance is a chance for me to grow in my trust in the Lord.” However simple the theory, it’s monumentally hard to put into place. It took weeks for me to even remember that this choice was an option before it was too late, and even longer before it started to be near the forefront of my mind at any given time. Today, my thinking when anxious about everyday things like going to work or church or school or rehearsal is as follows: “Okay, if I have to be anxious about this so be it. But, I can be anxious about it while doing it, so that it’s easier alter, OR, I can be anxious about NOT doing it while I sit at home and make it harder to do next time.” (I know that sentence is a little hard to folllow, but I think it makes sense)

Basically, I know that the more I step out of my comfort zone, the more comfortable I will be outside that zone. It doesn’t make it easy, and there have been many times when I have said “I am unable to do THIS (insert whatever event you chose). If it’s gonna happen, t’s gonna beGod because I literally do not have the strength.” And every single time that I have said that, He has given me the strength that I needed to get through it. Did I make it through those instances without attacks? Not always. But when I did have attacks I recognized that they were temporary, that I had control over how I reacted to them, and that how I reacted made all the difference. f I let myself give in and freak out, I could be out of commission for hours. But if I chose to trust Him and try to relax and focus on His truth. . .I might still be a little out of it for hours, but I would be making strides towards growth.

In the year since this panic attack, I have had many (including one at a dentists office where EMT’s were calledand I royally freaked out those poor staff). I have grown to loathe driving and then get used to it again, I have developed an irrational fear of riding as a passenger in a car and begun work towards overcoming it, I have canceled plans and avoided many opportunities that could have been fantastic, and I celebrated when I could stop going to campus for school. However, I have also taken risks that I didn’t think possible, like getting a full time job (the main reason behind not going to school on campus) and making two single-day trips to Kansas City and back. 

My reactions to my anxiety have changed. I started answering questions honestly when asked (ie. “Are you okay?” Or “What’s making you anxious?”) which is something I see as growth, but I fear is misinterpreted as backward strides by those I love, because I never used to answer those questions upfront. Skirt them, shrug them off, or say “I don’t know”, but never answer honestly, without hesitation. And now that I do, that I don’t pretend to be okay when I’m not, I’ve found that I can do more when I’m not okay. When someone knows that I’m struggeling, or even having an attack, I don’t have to waste energy trying to hide it. Instead, I can use that energy to focus on them or on refocusing my thoughts, or on what we are supposed to be doing.

I’ve seen myself grow in Christ, and seen my mindset towards anxiety and panic shift from helpless to helpful. It’s not that I don’t trust my Savior; it’s that when the temptation to be anxious comes I was so used to just accepting that it would happen that the fight I tried to put up was nothing in comparison. Now though, I know that how I react is my choice. I can choose to give into the anxiousness, or I can chooes to realize that no matter how anxious I am-I am protected and loved by Someone much bigger than anything I could ever imagine. This is the truth that I have come to cling to.

God is my comfort when I am unomfortble.