I can’t breathe.
A few months ago I was sitting in my Psychosocial Conditions lecture listening to a guy in my class present on suicide when I felt my panic attack begin. As soon as the title slide opened, I felt my stomach drop and churn. I could feel my skin heat as if it was on fire and my heart beat so rapidly I thought it would burst from my chest. I anxiously waited for the presentation to end and the professor to call a break so I could run to the bathroom and try to calm down. I hadn’t had a panic attack this bad in front of another person and didn’t want the first time to be in the center of a hallway outside of my classroom. I composed myself the best I could when I went into the hallway where a friend of mine put her hand on my back to ask if I was okay when I snapped.
I started hysterically hyperventilating and sobbing in the middle of the hallway and I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I was receiving the expected curious looks and random, “Are you okay? Is there something I can do to help?” from random students and professors I had never seen before. I had begun to calm down when my professor walked out of the classroom and saw what was happening assuming the panic attack was brought on due to the exam we were about to take.
And that’s when it happened.
With my head still down I blurted out, “I was suicidal for years. I used to cut myself and wanted to end my life. And just last night my best friend wanted to kill herself.” I was mortified. I couldn’t believe I had just said that. I had never fully admitted it to another person and now I had just said it out loud and to my professor. From the corner of my eye, I watched her face drop as she exhaled, “I had no idea. But now it makes sense. Kevin’s presentation was a massive trigger for you.” She would talk to me for a few more minutes letting me know that I was not alone and she was always there if I needed to talk and a few weeks later would even allow me to talk about my panic attacks to the class during the anxiety disorders lectures. Who would’ve guessed my attack could be a teaching moment?
When others find out you have an anxiety disorder such as panic attacks or suffer from depression, they automatically will ask you basic questions or have these opinions: “Why do you have anxiety/panic attacks?” “Well, what are you feeling?” “Why can’t you just get over it?” “Why are you freaking out?” “I think you’re overreacting” “You’re fine.” “What do you mean you don’t know why you’re freaking out? That doesn’t even make sense.” And to an extent, these are fair questions and assumptions. But as a person who suffers from both anxiety and depression, I will let you in on a few things:
1. Yes, I know I am often freaking out over nothing.
2. Yes, I do know that it isn’t healthy to not leave my bed.
3. No, I cannot tell you why I am acting or feeling this way because more times than not, I really do have no idea what triggered me.
4. And to be honest, what I feel most is numbness. I often feel nothing at all until I have an attack where I often end up feeling pure anger because I cannot understand what is going on inside my head and body, all I know is that I know I look ridiculous but I cannot help it.
5. I also cannot tell you how to help me when I’m in the “dark place” because it’s different every time. Sometimes I will need you to hold me tight and talk me down, and other times I’ll need space and to absolutely not be touched.
People want to believe that you can just snap out of it and be okay so they will no longer have to worry about you or have to give you “promise you’ll be okay and won’t hurt yourself” speech. And believe me, I would love to be able to tell you that you will quickly get out of the moods or that the feelings will pass soon. But I can’t do that. I cannot tell you that it is or will be easy on bad days. Some days you really may need to just lie down or be left alone. And some days will really just be bad days. But you will get through it. It will be a tough battle, but you will be okay.
If someone you love suffers from a mental illness, it’s going to be difficult. They may have days where they cannot get out of bed, or cannot be touched, or feel as if they are trapped inside their own skin. But do not give up on them. They are not broken; they do not need to be “fixed”; they just need to know you are there for them when they are ready to accept your help. Just make sure to always breathe deep and remember that sunshine always follows the rain.
