How Panic Disorder limited everything..my story. My long, long story.
Panic disorder and I are like sisters. I'm the younger sister, in this case, and panic disorder enjoys to taught, tease, and create deep fear in my heart. Do all sisters do this? Probably not... especially not for as long as this one.
Started at 18, sitting in a rocking chair, watching Rent with my two friends. The floor started moving. I stopped rocking. "What was that?" I asked them. My friend, Sissi turned to me, confused. "What was what?"
I tried explaining what happened, and the more I did, the harder my heart pounded into my chest. This was it, I thought. I'm obviously dying.
I drove Sissi and my other friend home, about 20 minutes away. On the way back, it happened again. WTF is going on?
Fast-forward One year ahead: Enjoy the tour of Kayla's panic. On your left, you'll see me begin to avoid driving on highways-- unless I certainly HAD to. This had never been a problem before. What WAS that thing that happened to me?
On your left, watch as Kayla quits college. It was 45 minutes away.
Went to the movies with my boyfriend, Larry around this time. My breathing just STOPPED. I walked out into popcorn area, and tried finding a quiet place. The carpet on the floor was confusing-- made me dizzy. It moved. So I ran out the door. Sweat, heart racing-- NOW I'm dying.
I wouldn't have done this EVER. But because I was convinced I was going crazy and had to get out of there, I took the car and left Larry at the movies that night.
Look forward, the official breaking point. Kayla crashes her car. I was young and stupid and made a mistake. Not drinking, not under influence, but yes, it was a dumb dumb mistake. Not the biggest one I'd ever made though.
The BIGGEST mistake was using my panic attacks as the excuse. I crashed because I panicked.. fainted..
LIES, LIES, LIES.
And they HAUNT me.
I honestly think I'm being punished.
Let's shoot to 4 years forward now. I had a job taking care of people who had disabilities. There are group homes, but, I needed one in my town. I couldn't explain these restrictions to the agency without the fear of being fired, so I accepted the first group home in my town without even looking at it.
In this home, lived 6 women. 3 were traumatic brain injuries because of careless or drunk drivers.
These are example... of the people I COULD HAVE DONE THIS TO.
I quit driving all together.
I worked there for 6 months, and was excited to move into another program in the agency called "Day Services". I would integrate clients with disabilities into the community. Because I refused to drive a van, they put me in a position for non-drivers.
Around this time, I woke up one day to discover I was deaf in one ear. I was so dizzy, I almost walk into walls. After an entire day of blah, I went to the ER.
"Do you use Q-Tips?" they asked.
"Of course, doesn't everyone?"
This part isn't pretty, so I'll spare the details. Basically-- Q-Tips push wax FURTHER into your ears... making someone feel deaf. So he cleaned all that out. He also referred me to a ear, nose and throat doctor.
I went, and this new doctor and he gave me a bunch of tests. He was confused about why I still had dizziness in cars and felt the need to panic. He made some referrals, and sent me to have further testing done.
25,000 brain tests later.. and oh, they find something. I wondered if Panic Disorder had a face to it. Like, it sits in my brain, and laughs. The MRI would find this little shit, and somehow we could just delete it.
The MRI came back fine though. No brain tumor, no visual of my Panic Disorder sister. But the other tests that check the connections between your eyes/brain, ears/brain... showed something there. And dammit, it was because of those freaking Q-Tips.
The doctor explained that when a person becomes dizzy, the brain works its ass off trying to fix it. So.. after shoving Q-Tips into my ears over and over again, I was creating a dizziness that my brain got sick of correcting. So it stopped correcting it.
I went to brain therapy and they set me up one a week to do all this hand/eye coordination exercises. I'd jump on a trampoline, throw a ball, jump, look up, jump, throw the ball, look down, ect.. use a treadmill, where I'd have to follow dots on the ceiling and floor with my head turning, as I'm walking.
I thought it was all a crock, but a few months in, I felt better. I started driving, I wasn't as dizzy.. and best of all.. PANIC ATTACKS WERE GONE.
Every few weeks, my brain therapist would have me re-test to see if I was showing improvements. She would go over the tests with me, and then send them to my insurance company. I came in and sat down one day, and she explained that this far, even though she and I had both seen improvements in me, the tests weren't corresponding. They showed that my brain wasn't making any progress. And even if she and I both felt that I was getting better, it was the tests that mattered. She re-tested me that day, I failed, and was excused from brain therapy.
Work was going REALLY well for a while. I went on trips to the park, mall, library.. everywhere. I loved my clients and would have done anything for them. One day, it came out of nowhere, and I just... couldn't picture going on a trip that was 20 minutes away. I knew I would panic. They kept me back.
In the next few weeks, it just got worse. I didn't want to go ANYWHERE. I was taking Lorazapam every single day. I didn't know how NOT to take the medicine anymore. It didn't matter where the trip was, just that it was somewhere other than the building.
During this time, I was so freaked out that even though I loved my clients, I knew that I couldn't do this anymore. My anxiety was so out of control that I was too scared to leave home at all and go in. I began calling out.
I applied for jobs just to get something that meant staying inside all day. I didn't want to, but I had to. Unfortunately, since I no longer drove, couldn't be far from home, and depended on rides, my job search sucked. Must be in my town, within 5 miles, no highways, no work-traveling, no training outside of building.
Somehow in my dinky little town, I found one.
It was an administrative assistant position 4 minutes away from my house. It was perfect. Until I realized how much I hated the work I was doing. The people were so mean, and yelled at me to do different assignments than the ones they originally asked for.
So.. welcome back, Lorazapam.
FOR TWO WEEKS STRAIGHT.
Please understand, that yes, I was seeing a doctor during this time. She toyed with my meds a lot, but I was born into a broken body; one that is allergic to many many things, including SSRIS.
The only thing that helped? Lorazapam. But I was petrified of addiction, of it not working because I was over-using in. It hurt me to take the pill at this point. I saw it as weak, embarrassing, foolish.
I didn't know how to fix it. I couldn't imagine being anywhere but home. Home was the only place I felt safe. Between the cruelty of the workplace I was in, and the way my body was acting.. I did the one thing I had never done before my working years---- I quit, without a job lined up.
That was June of this year.
I've been unemployed ever since.
I drive, but only with people in the car and only within 5 minutes of my house.
If it rains, snows.. I stay inside, and go nowhere.
I'm scared to go into public places like grocery stores.
I've stopped visiting friends, family, and missed my cousin's wedding because it was 45 minutes away.
Worse? I missed the birth of my niece. She was born just 15 minutes away.
My boyfriend, Eric, tries to be patient and understanding. But I see the disappointment when I say I don't want to go somewhere. He thinks that I have no interest in things, I really do.. but I'm too scared to be far from home.
I've wanted to go to the damn zoo with him for the past year. I love animals. But they're not in a 5 mile radius.
I lie to a lot of people. I'm so sick of saying, "I'm afraid I'll panic." I started actually hearing the resentment in their responses. So I've become a pro at claiming headaches, IBS, and lower back pain.
Have any of you ever seen True Blood?
I'll explain it for those who haven't-- just to make a point. True Blood is about vampires-- real ones, not sparkly ones, who are pardoned to live in the US as long as they don't kill humans or drink their blood without permission.
Thing is, vampires on True Blood have a gift. They call this "glamouring". It would go like this:
Vampire Bill: I will bite you, it will hurt a lot, but you will not scream. You won't scream because you aren't scared. I'm not going to kill you, I am just going to feed from you. Then you would go. Do you understand?"
Human: Don't scream, not scared, I understand.
Vampire Bill then chomps down onto the human's neck.
I want to be glamoured. I've spent SO much time and money on Panic Disorder, that if I saved up, I could have built a house for 20 people to live in. With a party room. Strobe lights. Doctors, CBTS, Phychs, Hypnotherapists, books, programs...
I want my life back.
I was hired for a new job, working with kids in an elementary school. Tomorrow I'm supposed to shadow. It's 7 minutes away from home, and I'm so scared.
Can someone help me?
