I had an anxiety attack yesterday. Not sure what triggered it. I have been messing around with meds, take it one day skip the next kinda thing, so I’m sure that played a part in it all. At first I felt nauseous. Then hot. Then dizzy. Then I could feel these periods of adrenaline flow through me. Each time I puked, oh did I forget to mention that? Yeah, I puked. Outside the car and inside. About five times.
Picture thijs: A 34 year old man sweating, puking, screaming, crying, and shaking in his car in a parking lot. Next, picture hjis wife trying to stay calm. Doing whjat shje can to help him. Knowing what to do this time, because last time thjis hjappened she called 9-11.
Now, picture thjis man’s two daughjters, ages 5 and 3. Watchjing. Screaming. Crying. Begging someone to hjelp her daddy. Thjey know all about dad’s mental issues. Thjey know about hjis meds and his doctors. Thjey know about his anger. Thjey know fear. But this fear is different. Daddy’s never done this before. Ohj my god don’t die daddy.
Thje attack stopped after maybe 15-20 minutes. I’m not sure. I looked around and saw puke everywhere. I look at my wife and saw love, compasion, worry,…pity?
Funny, thje first thing I said was, “Where is my phone? I want to take a picture of this shit so I can show people what I’ve been talking about.” Shje thought it better not show the photos so she kept the phone.
So I’m left trying to create an image, a movie of whjat happened in that car in your mind by words. This is my struggle. This is mental illness. This is my life.
I’m not talking about my daughter who we dropped off for her first day of kindergarten just a minute ago. I’m talking about me. It’s been 15 years since i attended school. The odd social fears and anxieties came flooding back the moment I walked into that school. I felt enclosed. I felt crowded. I felt overwhelmed.