Panicked

          The Stress Bounty Hunters Have come to collect!!!!

The thought that comes to my mind when leaving a walk-in medi centre with a sample box of anti-depressants in my hand is "well, I guess this is it. I guess I’ve officially lost my shit. "

I’m replaying the ten question “Are you depressed?” checklist that the doctor handed to me during our visit, and contemplating whether I chose my answers accurately from the 5 digit spectrum. What if I selected a 4 on question #7, when I really should’ve selected a 2? Maybe I exaggerated somewhere and that was the tipping point of “normal” individual to “definitely not normal”. Why don’t they make you  take it at least twice to make sure that the total score (or in this case the total fail) was accurate?

Wait…OMG! I’m obviously in major denial! I’m making excuses for my crazy and that’s the first sign… isn’t it?  Don’t “they” say that crazy people don’t actually know that they are crazy? Yup. Lost my shit. It’s clear.

I walk home, head down, eyes streaming with tears, ashamed, helpless, defeated, and every other depressing term … insert here. I get back to my apartment building and climb up onto the roof and…..

 Let me catch you up! 

Here’s a brief little description of “normal” Martyna just a few years ago.

Making conversation with strangers, feeling confident to approach whomever, wherever, whenever, being put on the spot and even the classic interview, were never a source of stress for me. Nerves just didn’t usually bug me out. Let’s say: one could have placed me in the  “Normally Functioning Person in Society” box.

And another thing, I also really enjoyed the sensation of fear. I had a little mantra playing in my head all the time that kept encouraging me to face any fears that would arise, and push through them. I can’t really pinpoint when or why this came about, but my guess is that it was a combination of factors that contributed to this attitude.

Before my big move to Van, I have to say that my life was pretty smooth in Calgary. I used my spitfire confidence and landed a pretty awesome job with limitless room for professional growth. I was renting  a little two bedroom dollhouse with a huge yard by one of my favorite parks in the city all to my independent self (and dog). I loved being physically active, trying everything from boxing to pole dancing. I had pretty average self-esteem woes usually involving an acne breakout here and there, but nothing too crazy. One might assume that had I taken the “Are you depressed?” test from the doc back then, I would have likely been graded “Normal”. I was a healthy, happy, balanced individual.

And then I bet a boy. Haha just kidding! This isn’t going where you might think it is. But I will say that within that chapter of my life, I saw, experienced, felt, and had to deal with things that I wouldn’t’ wish upon anyone. It was a  time in my life where all of a sudden I felt responsible for someone else, and that person was not in a good place. It was a big weight to carry. Huge. Though I won’t reveal details, I can say this: there were some exhilerating highs but scary, almost unbearable low points. Remember that mantra I mentioned? Boy did that ever play on repeat during all of it.

 I believe that my eventual struggle with severe anxiety happened because of my stubbornness to always be “strong”. This may sound like a good quality in a friend or partner, but unfortunately I took it to such extremes I eventually jeopardized my own mental health. My obsession with being strong and pushing through everything hard, ended up being a mental rain check that my brain gave my conscience. It was like I unintentionally made a deal with the stress bounty hunters :

“O.k. Sure, We will let you be “strong” (aka in denial) and “power” (aka force) through this mammoth yet again, but don’t think we won’t be back to collect  later, muah ha ha!”

 In other words, this is going to come back and bite you in the ass so hard when you least expect it. You will be alone when it happens, it will rip you apart, it will take you by total surprise, it will inconvenience every commitment you have in your life and strain every relationship you know. And then, to top it off, it will FORCE you to deal with everything you’ve ever pushed away or swept under a rug , without any warning at all. It will all resurface at once; a huge pool of unbearable stress. There will be old scars that will rip open again exposing infected wounds you tried to ignore. It will devour and encompass every thought you have. And the worst part: you’ll have absolutely no idea how to deal. 

Because you’ve never had the real strength to be let yourself feel fear and be vulnerable. You’ll have no tools, no concept of where to even begin. It will eat you alive, consume all your thoughts, convince you that you are alone, and that no one understands. And unfortunately, a lot of people in your life won’t. 

Because NO ONE talks about  mental struggles.

You’ll wonder if you’ll ever make it through the other side of this scary tunnel of doom. You’ll wonder if you’ll ever get your life back. Sometimes you’ll be sure that you won’t. You’ll reach a point of desperation where you’ll try and turn to people you think might offer any insight; friends, family, even a counselor. And at the lowest low, you’ll just rationalize that you aren’t capable of dealing with it all anymore, maybe you need help in the form of prescription drugs. Maybe your brain chemistry is whack and it’s not fixable just by little old you any more.

You’ll remember  one friend’s insistent advice: “trust me, I have 13 years of med school under my belt. You need anti-anxiety medication. You are not functioning. It will help you”, and even though at the time you wanted to literally remove her from your house, you’ll start to wonder if you’re just in denial and maybe you should consider the help.

That’s how extreme my anxiety was. At the peak of it, I couldn’t even function normally in social settings. Panic attacks began to consume my life and were triggered by things I never even used to consider threats.

*A note on panic attacks- Mine would experience some or all of the following:My hearing would start to sound fuzzy, kind of like on a loud airplane. My vision would get blurry and I would see white spots. My head and chest would feel hot and prickly and I would go really red. My fingertips would go numb and it was impossible to think or speak rationally. I’d feel short of breath, extremely claustrophobic, and have an intense urge to flee the situation. Shitty, right?*

My first plan of action was of course to take charge and power through. I thought I should figure out exactly what was triggering panic attacks and feelings of anxiety, and make the decision to just change. That quickly became a lot harder than I ever would have expected. Not to mention, when I realized I couldn’t just press a button in my head and quickly change everything, it was a very frustrating feeling. And panic attacks went from being random and infrequent to once a day or more. I did know what triggered; they would happen if I felt put on the spot. And not just like public speaking or an interview … they would happen at under totally unnecessary circumstances, like when someone asked me a simple question about what I was doing with my life.

             Example 1: meeting my new boyfriend’s aunt for the first time.

Even though I knew she was non-judgmental and sweet, I also knew she had a strong personality and I remember thinking that she for sure could sense and see that I was having anxiety problems. I think I thought this at the time because she reminded me so much of “old Martyna”, so I had this idea in my head that even if I tried to be like my old normal self, it would be transparent to her. At the dinner table, she asked me something along the lines of "what are your passions/interests?, what would have been such a stress-free  answer for “old Martyna” was like death on a stick for Anxious Martyna. I couldn’t answer questions about myself with any ounce of pride or even normalcy. I guess because inside I was feeling ashamed and insane. I no longer believed I would “do big things”. I no longer felt certain about my character, my dreams and goals. All I could think about was “how am I going to make it through this day without having an anxiety attack in front of someone?!”.

Example 2: The interview flake.

I’m lying in bed with the covers right up to my chin, hyperventillating, crying, feeling hot pin pricks all over my body, visibly red and shaken. I am clutching my pillow with one hand and my phone in the other, about to press “send” on what would be my third and final cop out from a really exciting interview. My new friend and roommate is standing in my doorway shouting ,

“ Don’t do it! You have to go! They love you! No one see’s you the way you think they do! It’s all in your head!!! You can and will do this! You still have ten minutes to get ready! Don’t push this away! You have to see what I see and what they see! You’re incredible!”

But I would just say,

“It’s not in my head! I’m a total loser! I’m insane! I can’t even function normally! They’ll ask me a simple question that will set of a panic attack randomly and what the hell will I do? Excuse myself for ten minutes to the bathroom?  There’s no way I will make it through this interview without shattering every positive idea they’ve built up about me!"

                         Hot tears, can’t breathe, fuzzy hearing, blurred vision, body numb.

                                            And then I pressed send on this text:

                                                   “Sorry, can we reschedule?”

                                                 

 Bye-bye perfect job opportunity.  

I think it was after self-sabotaging that incredible meeting, that I really realized 

the stress bounty hunters had come to collect. I couldn’t’ go on this way, I needed to change. 

One thing led to the next and before I knew it, I was on our apartment building roof, overlooking kits beach and mountains, sun streaming down on me, everything was seeming really quiet and feeling really still. I looked down at the box of anti-depressants that the doctor had encouraged me to take wondering why and how it all came to this. Who had I become? 

My roommate just happened to brake the lock on the roof access door and we discovered the scenic paradise on the roof top; it was the most breathtaking view in the neighborhood and it was all ours. It quickly became my quiet, secret haven, a place to think. I remember looking up at the sun, looking out to the mountains, seeing the beach and feeling the perfect breeze. I was giving my self my own version of the “Are you depressed?” self-test. I wanted to put myself in a place surrounded by beauty and I wanted to see if I could truly feel and appreciate it. And honestly, I did. At that moment, my new unofficial boy-that-was-a-friend-that-I-really-liked-and-who-really-liked-me climbed up the stairs and sat down beside me.

“What’s that?” he asked

“Anti-depressants.”

“why the hell would she give you those? You’re not depressed. You are happy and talented and amazing, you just have to see that!!. You have panic attacks sometimes and are dealing with anxiety but holy shit look at what you’ve gone through the past couple years!!”

Silence, tears. 

“Ultimately I’ll back whatever decision you make. But I don’t think you need these to get better, you know what you need to do to get better. I’ll be here for you! You won’t have to do any of it alone! You need to see what I see, what everyone else sees!” said my slightly frantic and worried angel, saviour, roommate and friend, with tears in his eyes.

Two thoughts hit me simultaneously:

1.He’s falling in love with me. I can’t have him falling in love with a broken person, because I’ve been on the receiving end of that and it’s not fair.

2. He’s totally right.

Did I have panic attacks? Yup. Were they debilitating? Totally. Was anxiety spinning out of control? Absolutely. But…. oddly enough…. I could still feel the sunshine, I still appreciated that beach and those mountains, and that evolving friendship/romance. I loved my sweet diggs near the ocean,  I loved that I was living in such a beautiful city, I loved that I had the courage to let a love go that was not healthy, and make room for healthy positive relationships in my life. I loved my car, I loved my freedom, I loved my dogs,

 I loved everything around me, I just forgot how to love myself. 

Then I did something really weird. I did a self-diagnosis that day on the roof, aloud in front of my witness. It also came with a lot of honesty and a caution sign.

“Shit is going to get really ugly. You are going to see me reach some really low lows and it will be really hard, and at times frustrating. I know it may seem like I just need to flip a switch and change the way I think, but It’s going to take an unknown amount of time to work through it all. Maybe I’ll never have old Martyna back. I don’t know. But I’m going to try. I deserve to believe in myself again.”

To be honest, I’m still journeying on my path to healing. Once I decided not to run from feelings of panic,  I realized I had a lot of work ahead of me. The “work” eventually got easier, and I don’t even think of it as work anymore, I just think of it as life. I no longer experience anxiety in social situations. A  holistic approach to healing was what worked for me, which I would love to blog about next time. Having an incredibly supportive, patient, kind, understanding friend who saw through all the crazy was also really great. Did I mention he was an angel/hero? He’s also the father of my child. Lucky her and lucky me. 

Happy Mental Health Awareness week,
 

In crazy spirit, 

M

P.s. James, I just realized it’s been over a year and a half since my last panic attack! Yeah baby!