My Milk Glass Heart

My first anxiety attack/panic attack – whatever you want to call it – was about 8 years ago in a hospital.

My mom was having a bad few years – bladder stones, cancer and a blocked femoral artery. The artery was the last straw for my nerves. (The doctor wanted to amputate. I cussed him to Christmas and he did an angioplasty instead, which worked.) The smell of the hospital, the long windowless hallways, the incompetence, the long waits for simple tests, battling Medicare… I just lost it one day.

We were there to get pre-op tests done and I could feel my heart begin to pound for no reason. I got lightheaded and felt like a wild animal in cage and needed fresh air. I told the nurse I would be back in a few minutes and she caught an attitude with me, like I was leaving my mom there forever. She got cussed out too and I started running down the halls. Then the tunnel vision set in (so weird) and I went deaf, well more like a deafening “wah wah wah” drowning out everything. I found a stairwell and just sat and shook and then cried. Then it all went away and I went on with the rest of my day at the hospital, because I had to.

Some time later, it happened again out of the blue at the grocery store. There was no real trigger but I could feel it coming on and had to leave my cart and go sit in my car for a while.

My first experience with anti-anxiety/depression meds was about 6 years ago. I was in a terrible relationship. We fought non-stop and I was crying all the way home every night. I went to my family doctor and he explained to me how long-term stress can alter your brain chemistry. I had been taking care of my mom for years and my bf was an asshole. He gave me a questionnaire and I scored 6 out of 10 for both depression & anxiety. I carefully did not answer yes to the suicidal questions for fear of being institutionalized. (I had been contemplating driving into trees on my crying drives home.) He gave me a prescription for Lexapro, saying it was only temporary until I was feeling like myself. 3 months later I could see the forest from the trees, ditched the jerk, weaned off the pills and got on with my life.

A full-blown panic attack never happened again but about 4.5 years ago I was almost done with my psych degree and applied for nursing school to become an RN. Everyone had been pushing me to do it… that I was “a natural care-giver and would make a great nurse”. I got in, did the orientation, got a million shots, got fitted for for a bio-hazard mask, got CPR certified, bought my books and supplies and went to a hospital to get my ID. I parked on the wrong side and had to walk across the facility. The smells and hallways started getting to me. I began to doubt my decision. I just couldn’t see myself doing this every day, in the institutional setting. The first day of class in a windowless room was the last day for me. I sold all my books and never felt better. I’ve probably developed some sort of phobia connected to all the crap I’ve dealt with in hospitals with my mom. At first I felt terrible for letting so many people down because I quit but honestly, I hated the way the nursing school was run in addition to not wanting to do what I do for my mom, with strangers. Looking back, I don’t regret quitting.

About 3.5 years ago, right before now bf and I met, the sads got a hold of me again so I went back to my doctor. I was ready to make some major changes – quit smoking, get in shape, get back on some meds and see a therapist. I managed to quit smoking for a few months (oops), went the gym maybe 3 times, saw an incredible therapist twice who gave me a swift kick in the ass and got back on Lexapro.

I felt amazing. I was enjoying life, I was looking for an apartment, I was almost done with school, I quit dating, I fell in love (always happens when you quit looking). 6 months later, we moved in together, life was great and like an idiot, I quit taking my happy pills. That was a rough time. I couldn’t tell if I was always sad and miserable because we were adjusting to living together, if he was a real jerk, or if I was the problem. Hoo boy did we argue! Omg it was ridiculous. I didn’t know if we were going to make it and after thinking about things, realizing I was being completely irrational, miserable and hopeless for no logical reason, I went back to my doctor. I had lost my health insurance so I got on generic Celexa and immediately felt like myself again. I don’t plan on ever getting off them again.

Luckily the only side effects I’ve noticed have been lack of energy but it’s different for everyone. It can take a while to get it right.

That therapist gave me a copy of The Dance of Anger and it was life-changing. When I catch myself getting overwhelmed, I think about what I learned and it puts things back into perspective. I highly recommend it.

So, that’s my experience with depression and anxiety. I still get depressed and feel anxiety but that’s a normal part of life. I get mad as hell and want to kick society in its collective nuts a lot. I don’t feel like a zombie at all. I just don’t wallow in my depression for a month at a time making everyone else around me miserable. I know a lot of people having a rough time right now. The holidays are especially hard but a new year is a great time to grab the reigns on your life and make some proactive changes. It’s okay to talk to someone. It’s okay to get some help. It’s okay to take a pill to regulate your stupid brain.

 If you ever want to talk… send me an email! Seriously!

LaraRand at gmail.

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