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Something happened today and I wasn’t sure if I would talk about it here but after telling my friend Kate (aka @sledpress) it seemed okay to also share it with you guys. Some of you know that for years (since I was about 14 actually) I’ve suffered from panic attacks/agoraphobia, no doubt a result of chronic anxiety that has been with me since childhood. Oddly or otherwise the attacks pretty much went away during and post cancer (I guess almost dying kind of knocked them out of the ballpark in terms of things I had to worry about). That is until about five years later (2016) during a trip to London when I was hit with an overwhelming panic attack while crossing Trafalgar Square. And just like that they were back.
These days they have become less frequent but they still lurk menacingly in the background. Crossing bridges can still be fraught, also sudden changes in light. But this morning I had this happen to me while sitting at my desk and it especially scared the fuck out of me because, well, I don’t get panic attacks at home! This is my safe place. Or it’s supposed to be and has been until now. Anyhow, suddenly I started feeling disconnected from “reality” and there was a huge surge of panic rising in my solar plexus and that old feeling like I am dissolving and have no skin anymore… absolutely terrifying. No words can actually describe it. I don’t know how I “came back” but lots of deep breathing, some distraction therapy and then doing a chair workout… and phew. The worst of it was over.
I tried telling Peter and he just looked at me like a deer caught in the headlights, though later he came out of his room and gave me a hug. What can I say, he’s not really a hugger, but it was nice that he tried. Then I told Kate on whatsapp and I felt better knowing that she would read it and understand. Later, when we were on similar “awake times” we chatted a bit and that also helped a lot.
Had it been a typical episode, crossing a bridge or just being blindsided out in the street, I would have retreated to my lovely Casa Azahar knowing that at least I am safe here. But now? There never used to be any triggers here at home and it’s well documented that the fearful anticipation of a panic attack happening again from being in a similar situation… well, it can cause them to happen again.
I need to fight this, just not sure how to go about it yet. And no, this is not exactly how I had hoped to spend the second half of my Staycation but here we are. I mean, maybe it was a one off, maybe it won’t happen again at home. But now I’ve lost my trust in my home being my safe place. My refuge. Dammit.
casa azahar 
It’s just stream of consciousness here, mostly, but I think we all feel a little embattled at this point. Home is still the “safe place” for me, but now I feel as if I have to mount defenses like a medieval castellan, planning every interaction that would involve people coming into the space around the state of the pandemic and the repetitive insistence on masking (with the puzzled looks that tends to elicit). The feeling of threat gets so old and so pervasive; it’s like being in the scary story where no one else understands the danger. And the last eight years, the last four especially, have been just onslaughts of craziness, taking away our choices in this way and that and menacing the ability to just live life without bracing for catastrophes. I find myself walking around talking to myself the way my late and ex did when he was, in my view, really going off the cliff mentally, and wanting to curl up in a ball and sleep for a week.
If whatever sets off your panic attacks *were* a regulation monster from a scary story you know I’d beat it senseless while yelling at it to leave you be, just saying.
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Yeah, I see similarities, but one (on your part) is feeling overwhelmed about sensible mitigations against an ongoing pandemic being thwarted at every turn and the other (mine) is about feeling crazy inside my own skin.
I also share your feelings about Covid, as you know, and that is a REAL threat, so you have every right to feel that way, as do I.
But the way I feel sometimes, the threat isn’t about anything tangible, it’s all “in my head” (actually in my body) and it’s very hard to explain to anyone how REAL that threat feels. So far it hasn’t won.
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