The Question of a Lifetime...Why?

Why? Why? WHY? Ever since I started having panic attacks I ask myself this. Why does this happen to me? Let me take you on a little time warp back to when this all started...7 years ago when I was 20.

   My first panic attack happened in a movie theater exactly as the movie was getting good. My throat felt funny. Then, I started feeling like something was stuck in there. Sipping on my soda did nothing to dislodge that feeling. My brain automatically announced " WE MUST BE HAVING AN ALLERGIC REACTION TO THAT POPCORN WE JUST ATE!!!" I told my boyfriend at the time that I needed to go to the restroom. In the restroom things just spiraled, I felt convinced something was wrong and I needed to get help then and there. I ran back to my boyfriend and explained in probably, what I imagine, was surely a psychotic voice " I AM HAVING AN ALLERGIC REACTION AND WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE AND CALL AN AMBULANCE NOW NOW NOW!!!" So, out we went onto one of the busiest streets in the city and called. Once the ambulance came, everyone and their mother came to see what was happening. Getting on board, they figured it was just a panic attack. This was the first time I had ever heard those words in response to me. Off we went to the hospital, me counting to 100 over and over and the paramedics looking on. One EKG and an ativan later, the panic attack was confirmed. Thus, began my journey into what has been the most hellish rabbit hole I have ever been down.
                                             

  After that, my life was a wreck. I was having these things twice a day, every day. In public, at home, anywhere, anytime. I couldn't function in college, I missed a lot of classes. Having to explain to my professors that " I couldn't come to class because I was having a panic attack" was embarrassing. Not to mention the judgmental looks and scoffs. I was taking ativan numerous times a day. So much so that I built up a tolerance to it. I was unable to get a psychiatrist, so urgent care doctors and ER doctors kept bumping me up. I ended up on 5 mg. of ativan before a doctor suggested Wellbutrin. That medication was like a poison to me. I felt like I  was in a hot air balloon watching myself do tasks and acting normal. I puked every time I took it. Finally, I got to see a psychiatrist who gave me  20mg celexa....and lord have mercy it worked. I was diagnosed with panic disorder and generalized anxiety disorder with obsessive thoughts. I was finally panic attack free though, that's all that mattered. This went on for a good couple of years with only minimal attacks every now and then. I had my life back.

  Then, one night my ex and I decided to try chocolate laced with hash oil. I had smoked pot before, so I figured this wouldn't be a biggie. WRONG! I took a double dose, ended up having a huge attack. Using pure adrenaline, I was able to move my 400lb ex out of my way to get to a phone. I called every emergency service available because I thought the chocolate was laced with something bad. The whole cavalry came out to see me, a mess of a girl, pouring sweat and talking a mile a minute. The ambulance refused to take me....embarrassing things were said and done by me in my high off my ass panicked state. After this finally stopped, 2 days later, mind you, I was left with numbness in my extremities and tongue. I thought for sure I broke my brain. The numbness lasted two weeks.

    I was good for another couple years until 2011 when my mom died. Then, in 2012, my boyfriend of 7 years broke up with me right before my mother's tombstone unveiling. Needless to say, I was a discombobulated mess. After getting a new boyfriend, freaking out some more, I ended up on 30 mg. of celexa. I had a good year. I was positive, things were going well. I thought I could ride this out, until I broke my ankle this year. That was the catalyst for a whole new era of panic. Suddenly, the panic attacks changed in nature. I developed new symptoms, new phobias, and new anxieties. My psychiatrist upped me to 40mg of celexa. It seemed to work for a little while, but now I'm having panic attacks again nearly every day. These are what I call monster attacks. They are huge and have me wanting to run to a hospital, call 911, or even at times hurt myself to make the pain stop. This is where I am at on my journey. I am a fearful, crippled, pile of a girl. I miss the old me. I am on a non-stop course to try to regain my life. Join me.