The First Time

Do you remember your first panic attack?

I remember mine like it was yesterday.  *For context purposes, I have a death phobia.  Not just my own death, but also my loved ones and even pets.*

Now let's dig in. 

I was 12 years old.  I was at a youth group service at my church, I believe it was a Wednesday evening.  I remember sitting down in the large group area and the current youth pastor said we were going to watch a video.  So I sat there, not a care in the world, enjoying my Wednesday evening with my friends.  Little did I know, my entire life was about to change. 

So, this video starts and me, being a rule follower, am intently watching the video screen.  

This video is talking about the "epicenter" and ultimately the rapture.  For those who don't know, that is the second coming of Jesus.

All of a sudden, I had the most intense feeling of fear I have ever felt.  I immediately starting sweating.  I felt like I was having a heart attack.  I started shaking uncontrollably and all of a sudden I couldn't breathe.  I mean straight up couldn't draw breath in my body no matter how hard I tried.  

I jumped up and ran out of the room and of course an adult followed me, concerned.  They called to get my parents.  I vividly remember my Dad coming in with confusion and worry written all across his face, until he realized exactly what was happening.  

My Dad taught psychology and AP psychology for over 20 years, so he has a vast understanding of the brain and ultimately anxiety disorders.  He knew I was in the throws of a full blown panic attack.  Thank God he was able to help me regain my composure and calm down.  Everything after that is a blur.  I can't remember what exactly happened, going home, talking to anyone etc.  Until the vicious anxiety cycle started- I remember every second of that. 

Every day was constant intrusive thoughts about death.  I was convinced I was going to die.  Something bad was going to happen any second.  For months I was terrified to leave my parents.  I slept in their bed every night.  Even then I couldn't find sleep.  I would sit and watch both of my parents chest to make sure they were breathing.  I would reach out and touch them to make sure they were warm.  I was terrified they were going to just up and die in their sleep.  During the day, the thought of being away from them was too much to handle.  I didn't go to school.  I went to my grandmothers home everyday while my parents worked.  I sat at her garage door and watched the road, crying and begging for my mom to hurry up.  I would do this all day until my mother would finally pick me up.  Then the cycle started all over again.  Every sound I heard was a threat.  Airplane flying over?  That meant we were going to die.  Air conditioning turned on- we were going to die.  The dogs barked- we were going to die.  The panic, the fears, they felt like they were never going to stop.  AVOID, avoid school, avoid church, avoid people- that was my coping mechanism, and unfortunately, still is.  

My parents finally decided to seek out a child therapist.  I wish I could remember her name, but let's be real, this was 17 years ago.  Regardless, I owe so much to that woman.  She was able to work with me to get me through the pain, the panic, and the fears.  It also helped that after every session, my Dad would take me to this amazing little pizza joint.  Now that I look back, I believe he was using positive reinforcement (sneaky man).  But it worked.  I was able to go back to school and be at least a little productive.  I still dealt with intrusive thoughts, the smallest things would trigger me, but with continued therapy sessions and help from my Dad, I was able to be a "normal teenager".......at least for a little while. 

 That's a story for next time.