Panic Attacks

My first panic attack happened on the way to the hospital. My husband had just undergone his second craniotomy to remove a brain tumor, and was horribly ill with meningitis. I thought I was going to lose him, and everything all at once felt like it was closing in on me. Suddenly I couldn't hear anything, my heart felt like it was going to burst through my chest, and I couldn't breathe. I was trapped inside the confines of my car and overwhelmed with fear. They always happen when I'm in my car. My mind wanders, churning with thoughts, and usually they are worrisome thoughts, filled with what ifs. What if this happens, what if that happens? I'm never in the present moment. I pull over, and sometimes I literally have to smack myself in the face a couple of times. I often call my therapist who will talk me through it, and help me slow down my breathing. I've had three in the past two weeks. She says that the increase is because I'm eating more, and all of the feelings that I usually bury with the eating disorder are coming to the surface. It makes sense, but no wonder I struggle with relapse. It makes it easy to skip a meal here, skip a meal there, until I've managed to totally block out all feeling. I'm not doing that though. I'm pushing through, but I dread when the next wave will hit, the next panic attack, or the next nightmare. I see my psychiatrist next week, and I'm going to ask for more Xanax. I hate to rely on drugs, but maybe it will get me through this rough patch. Maybe I'm asking for too much to think that one day I will be free from all of this. The bouts of depression, and anxiety are things that I've struggled with for most of my life, and maybe it is part of my make up, and I should just accept who I am, flaws and all. Ahhh, acceptance...there's a concept!