Panic attacks

I have experienced periods of panic attacks numerous times over the years, brought on by a combination of my own skewed perspective and insomnia from the churning lumpy sea of my mind. Ironically the worst have been during periods of both unemployment and also through weeks of uncontrollable work stress.

I have vague memories of running after my dads blood red Cortina after he dropped me off at primary school, hammering on the door, not really knowing what I was scared of. Something.

And periods of dread during secondary school, nothing specific, just that nagging fear that would bubble and boil from time to time making me want to stay at home. Frustration.

At university with an inability to focus as my Finals approach I sit on my bedsit floor sobbing, calling out for a woman I never knew. It passes over time and fades into the background waiting its turn.

Lack of sleep really screws me, taking control over a simple life goes out of the window and I feel inside an ever stretched band waiting for the inevitable break, tortuous to watch for that moment when it fails. I just worry far too much.

I see myself alone, pacing, backwards and forwards, wringing blistered hands with an awful maelstrom of anxiety coursing through every part of my body. Facing a simple task becomes impossible as a huge wave of panic envelops. Utterly exhausting.

“I can’t do this anymore, help me” I scream silently to no-one.

I have seen a young child staring at her daddy trying to fathom why this big man is sobbing and shaking.  “I get scared when you are grumpy”, she tells me when we talk about it. I don’t blame her, so do I. Heart breaking.

Eventually, it passes and it leaves me bruised, broken and battered. But it does go.

Thankfully I have learnt to take some control which I will scribble about in another post. I realise I need to look after myself better, physically as well as mentally.