Accepting That I Have Panic Disorder For This Current Season Of My Life

Accepting That I Have Panic Disorder For This Current Season Of My Life

All I can say it comes to one word, and that is "life."


This post is very personal, and I was hesitant to write about this. But, I need to put it out here because my feelings matter, and I am not alone.

I remember the first time I had a panic attack. I was on my couch watching a video, and all of a sudden I went to go take a shower and I could feel my bones start to become weak, my mind felt like it wasn't in the full moment, and I got the urge to escape and catch my breath.

I called my sister immediately telling her I didn't know what was happening but I was shaking, I felt like couldn't breathe, I felt like I was going to pass out, and I was crying and hyperventilating so hard for no reason. I didn't have any control over anything and I felt like I was having a heart attack. And that's when she told me it was a panic attack. It lasted for a good 10-15 minutes and then my body felt back to normal.

But let me tell you, these attacks take SO much out of you.

I remember thinking I was dying. And there came the panic, racing thoughts, wanting someone to be there, and saying goodbye to the life I was living.

I had panic attacks once a month, and sometimes they came up different. This then caused my mind to be tricked into thinking "this time it was different." Until one month it became so bad in having them more than once, and it came in some form every day that I actually had to do the unthinkable and call that three-digit number for help and assurance that this was just a panic attack.

Now, you might be thinking what is so bad in your life that you are having panic attacks? What is going on? And honestly, that's a question I have yet to figure out. But deep down it's a whole bunch of crap. It's like when you grab sand from the lake and you find you have to add more to have it fall from your hands. Meanwhile, mine is more than another handful, it feels like it's the biggest pile of weight I am lifting up to carry and let it fall from my hands.

And, all I can say it comes to one word, and that is "Life." My body creates this sensation of wanting to escape and makes it a real moment my body goes crazy at any time, day, or moment. They say sometimes a panic attack can mimic a heart attack and what it feels like. Which is not fair because I get into thinking the doctors missed something when diagnosed with "panic disorder."

As I say, why is this all happening to me now? Or why can't my body freak out in another way? However, I think that's where repression comes in and soon the water kept filling and it turned to a boil. So, sometimes I think there's no way around it. Maybe my body secretly reacts to stress, trauma, pain, and old things I still haven't accepted in a brand new way. And it's something I have to accept and understand that this is a process.

However, it is confusing when it just happens out of the blue and you are like "I don't feel anxious or anything, but my body is reacting in so many ways... why?" I feel as if sometimes it's hard to win and I just want to have this gone and go back to not having to deal. But, as we all know repression is a ticking time clock, you can only repress so much until it just bursts. As I mentioned the metaphor above.

I never thought Panic Disorder would be apart of my journey. But maybe this had to happen to finally find my voice that has been hidden for so long.

To be continued.

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Everything You Will Miss If You Commit Suicide

The world needs you.

You won't see the sunrise or have your favorite breakfast in the morning.

Instead, your family will mourn the sunrise because it means another day without you.

You will never stay up late talking to your friends or have a bonfire on a summer night.

You won't laugh until you cry again, or dance around and be silly.

You won't go on another adventure. You won't drive around under the moonlight and stars.

They'll miss you. They'll cry.

You won't fight with your siblings only to make up minutes later and laugh about it.

You won't get to interrogate your sister's fiancé when the time comes.

You won't be there to wipe away your mother's tears when she finds out that you're gone.

You won't be able to hug the ones that love you while they're waiting to wake up from the nightmare that had become their reality.

You won't be at your grandparents funeral, speaking about the good things they did in their life.

Instead, they will be at yours.

You won't find your purpose in life, the love of your life, get married or raise a family.

You won't celebrate another Christmas, Easter or birthday.

You won't turn another year older.

You will never see the places you've always dreamed of seeing.

You will not allow yourself the opportunity to get help.

This will be the last sunset you see.

You'll never see the sky change from a bright blue to purples, pinks, oranges, and yellows meshing together over the landscape again.

If the light has left your eyes and all you see is the darkness, know that it can get better. Let yourself get better.

This is what you will miss if you leave the world today.

This is who will care about you when you are gone.

You can change lives. But I hope it's not at the expense of yours.

We care. People care.

Don't let today be the end.

You don't have to live forever sad. You can be happy. It's not wrong to ask for help.

Thank you for staying. Thank you for fighting.

Suicide is a real problem that no one wants to talk about. I'm sure you're no different. But we need to talk about it. There is no difference between being suicidal and committing suicide. If someone tells you they want to kill themselves, do not think they won't do it. Do not just tell them, “Oh you'll be fine." Because when they aren't, you will wonder what you could have done to help. Sit with them however long you need to and tell them it will get better. Talk to them about their problems and tell them there is help. Be the help. Get them assistance. Remind them of all the things they will miss in life.

If you or someone you know is experiencing suicidal thoughts, call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline — 1-800-273-8255

Cover Image Credit: Brittani Norman

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An Incurable Disease Doesn't Change The Love I Have For You

Because one day the one you love the most is fine and the next day they're not, it causes devastation you never truly recover from.


Loving someone with an incurable disease is the most emotionally straining thing I have ever experienced.

My significant other and I have been together for almost six years. During the summer of 2018, we all noticed the significant changes he was going through. He had lost around fifty pounds and had a lack of appetite. We had figured something was going on, however, we didn't realize it was anything serious.

Fast forward to the Fall semester of 2018. I had visited my boyfriend and we had expressed certain concerns, such as, through the night I would try and get him to stop uncontrollably itching his legs to the point of bleeding, or that he was looking a little yellow and was exhausted all the time. After seeing his sister in November, while I was at school, she pleaded with him to go to urgent care because he did not look good. He was yellow, exhausted, and very sickly looking. We didn't realize that the urgent care visit would be the precedent of the rest of our lives.

After coming home for Thanksgiving and spending a week straight in the hospital with him, it finally set in that something was not right. Between all the vomit, getting moved for testing, the weakness, the constant calling for medications because the pain was so severe, and the almost month-long stay in the hospital, it hit me full force that something was really wrong. Words will never truly describe the emotions I was feeling, or the burden of my thoughts that I felt were too selfish to pass on anyone, so I kept them to myself.

When we finally got the diagnosis, we were surprised. PSC, otherwise known as Primary Sclerosing Cholangitis, is an incurable liver disease that affects the bile ducts which become scarred and inflamed, more likely than not lead to cirrhosis and an inevitable transplant. There was no cure, rather the only solution was a liver transplant, and even then the disease can be recurring.

I was thinking selfishly. I was torn in two. What would our future look like? Could we have children? Could we ever do the things we used to?

Loving someone with an incurable disease is a mix of emotions. There is a constant fear in the back of my mind that he is going to wake up in intense pain and have to be rushed to the hospital. There is a constant fear of every time waiting for the bi-weekly blood test results to come back, in fear that his Bilirubin spiked again or he is undergoing a flare up and needs to be hospitalized. There is a constant anxiety that one day he's going to be fine, and the next day he won't be. Even the simple things, such as laying beside one another, was a constant fear I had, due to the pain he was in every day. What if I hit him in my sleep on accident? What if I accidentally hugged a little too tightly and caused him pain?

Loving someone with an incurable disease can be a fluctuation of emotions, however, he makes it worth it.


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