Living with Panic Disorder

There is not cookie-cutter, clear-cut way to describe a day living with panic disorder. Sometimes, it’s just like what any other college student would call a normal day. I wake up, I work out, I go to class, I work, I hang out with friends. That’s what my day looks like most of the time. I think it’s the things that everyone can’t see that make my days so drastically different.

I try to stick to routine for stability. My brain doesn’t always follow suit. When I wake up in the morning, I have no idea how the day will go. Regardless, I’m always aware of how badly it could go. I’m always afraid of the drop of the pin moment when I can’t keep it together anymore.

A day filled with panic is a day that I can’t see coming. It’s when I’m five and my mom parks in a different spot than usual to pick me up, and the anxiety shoots up my spine as I cannot stop crying because I think that she has left me. It’s when I’m ten and my friends tell me I’m not very good at jump rope, and I feel the tears and the panic pulse throughout my body, all while I’m trying to argue with the feelings – I don’t even like jump rope. Why is this happening?

It’s when I’m twelve and I’m sitting in my best friend’s room and suddenly the world is moving too fast and everything is wrong. And they keep asking me what’s wrong and what happened, and the truth is I just don’t know, but I make up something because it’s not normal to be upset over nothing.

It’s when I’m sitting at lunch in high school surrounded by friends but suddenly get hit in the chest with feelings of being alone, unwanted, and invisible. It’s at my graduation after party, when I’m supposed to be happy, but the crowds make me hyperventilate and I spend most of the night crying in the bathroom. It’s when I’m running late for an event, and I get hit with feelings of worthlessness and panic.

The same thing could happen twice and it could give me a panic attack the first time, but not the second. The same thing could happen a hundred times, and only give me a panic attack once. The worst part is not knowing when it’s coming, and not knowing what will trigger it. The worst part is the ironic panic I constantly feel about the possibility of having a panic attack.

A panic attack feels different for each person, or so I’ve been told. For me, it’s like a train of feelings of sadness, insecurity, anxiety, and depression hit me at once. It’s when the world suddenly feels too loud, too bright, and too quiet, and all I want to do is close my eyes and plug my ears. It feels like I’m drowning in a tank that everyone walks by, staring in.

To all the people that have tried to help me but haven’t known how, I want you to understand that this is an illness. I am not having a panic attack because of something you did, I did, or anyone else did. I am having a panic attack because of the chemical imbalance in my brain. Please do not try to fix me, or tell me that you don’t understand me. There is nothing to be fixed or understood. Just a person who is drowning who wishes to be listened to. Thank you to everyone who has listened to me and sat with me – that is the best possible thing that you can do.