There are a lot of mixed ideas about anxiety. And unless you have anxiety, it's hard to really understand what the big deal is. Before I had my first attack, I honestly thought it was people overreacting.
But then you get hit with an attack and you literally don't know how to deal with it. Because it's a brand new sensation, one you never want to relive. It's one of those things that, when you explain it to someone who doesn't suffer from anxiety, they simply don't get it. Like you once were, they think it's all in your head.
But that's the thing. It IS all in your head.
That doesn't make it any less credible, less painful, or less significant. It's just simply that it's a mental disorder, and those without it, can't wrap their heads around it.
I've had people tell me to just deal with it. That it's not a big deal. That I probably have some other sort of problem that I'm overlooking, a bigger problem. I've been told to focus on other things, rather than my attack.
You wouldn't tell someone with the flu to simply "not think about it", right? Because if you stop thinking about your physical ailment, you'll be cured, right?
No.
I'm not saying positive energy doesn't help. I'm just saying that it's a lot more complicated than that.
Everyone experiences anxiety slightly differently. I mean, it's not a cookie cutter thing.
The first time you have one is possibly one of the most terrifying attacks you'll ever have. And it'll hit you at a time you didn't expect. You knew that the bell tower made you feel uncomfortable, but you had no idea it would make your head spin. Sirens had always made your hair stand on end, but the helplessness you feel just doesn't make sense.
It's a hot, trapped pain in your chest. You feel tight and irritable. That's how I know it's coming. my chest just feels constricted by something so incredibly warm in the most uncomfortable way, and you want so desperately to escape but you simply can't.
As the attack intensifies, your heart rate sky-rockets. Your breathing becomes shallow and quick, as your mind is filled with panic-ridden thoughts. You want to cry, and sometimes do, from the physical and emotional pain of it all.
Sometimes it passes quickly. Sometimes it's only a few minutes of headache and tears. But sometimes it can last much longer.
The whole time the attack is going on, you just feel despair. You don't know what to do, or how to handle it, as hot tears roll down your cheeks. You feel at a loss. You feel miserable, and in pain. And you just want it to stop. And you don't have control over it.
This is how anxiety feels.
It's not a hopeless cause though, as it seems. During attacks, it honestly feels like nothing you could do could fix it. You feel so powerless.
But there are ways that I've learned that have helped considerably. At the beginning, when I start to feel hot and tight, I do temperature and texture changes. I clutch an ice cube, run my hands under cold water, or step outside. I have certain procedures that I do whenever I feel an attack coming. It's almost reflex. If the temperature doesn't lessen or stop it enough, I grab a fuzzy blanket and rub it between my fingers. I know it seems silly, it's almost a security blanket.
There are definitely ways to prevent or lessen the pain that is afflicted when an attack hits.
The thing that makes it the easiest to go through is knowing there's someone that will empathize with you after. Bonnie doesn't feel what I'm feeling, but she doesn't discredit my mental state or my emotions, and we work out what triggered the attack, so I can learn to prevent a future one.
Anxiety is a delicate thing. Treat those who suffer with love. Don't put down their emotions because you don't understand. That's honestly the worst thing you could do. even if you don't necessarily seek to understand why or what is happening, at least empathize.
