Panic Attacks & Pride

It's common knowledge, even if you just KINDA know me- I struggle with anxiety.  And when I say struggle?  I'm talking about on the ground, "call 911" anxiety.  It's not pretty.

I was first diagnosed with it after having Maeve.  That's also when I started up on all my medications.  I've used everything from xanax, to ativan, to valium to try and control these things.  But still.... they  were coming on a regular basis for awhile.  

I'm not sure if I've ever shared this  specific story or not, because its embarrassing.  Except I'm not embarrassed by things I cannot control anymore.  I want to shed light on the dark, ugly stories- and let WHOEVER is reading this know you can, and WILL make it into the light.  

  

Maeve was a couple of months old, and I was basically a ball of wired up, nervous energy.  I never slept.  Rarely ate.  I couldn't think straight, and I needed either my mom or dad to be home with me and the baby while Ryan was at work.  (yep it was that bad).

This particular day, my dad was on "Ashley duty" (something I called it, which made me feel even more guilty, and worthless).  Maeve was sleeping- or at least being calm/content.  My dad asked if he could run up to his office and grab some files.  He'd be back in 30 minutes.  

I was 23 years old.  "Yes dad, I can stay in my own home, with my own baby for 30 minutes alone."  (I didn't say that- but that was the constant thought running through my head back then).

He left, and as soon as he did, the panic came.

I started pacing, with my phone.  I remember having my dad's number ready to dial, but I wanted SO BADLY to show him- to show Ryan, my family, MYSELF- that I can do this.  

I think it took a few minutes of my heart rate in the 140's to hit the "CALL" button.  

When my dad's truck pulled back into the driveway, I couldn't do anything but sit on the floor and cry.  Yes I actually did.  

I sat down on the floor- right where I was, and cried.  

My dad came in and we talked about what was going on.  He asked if it was an "ER worthy panic attack."  Of course I said yes.... because in my head, this wasn't panic, it was imminent death.  

Dad loaded baby Maeve in the car and drove us to the hospital.  Right before I was going to go in, my dad said, "Ash do you really need to do this?  Is there anything that can help that doesn't involve the emergency room?"  I had been in and out of the hospital SO many times by then, and bills were running high.

I thought for a minute, and said, "Yeah... maybe."

I'm positive it wasn't what my dad was expecting to hear, but I said "find a liquor store.   He went in, purchased a bottle of tequila, and brought it back to me.  

I remember crying and apologizing to my dad for having to see this.  I had NEVER drank in front of my parents (they're strictly no alcohol), let alone SHOTS straight out of the bottle.   I drank enough, that by the time we got home, the panic was gone and I could slump to bed as my dad waited for Ryan to get home.

That was life for a few months.  Panicking, ER trips, guilt, SHAME (oh the shame).

And then I got into an anxiety clinic... they got me on meds and within about 6 months, I no longer dealt with crippling panic.  The second my heart would begin to race, I'd take some ativan.  It worked like magic.  The feelings would be gone, and I'd be either asleep or too relaxed to care.  

For 10ish years I was on and off SO much flipping medication.  Some was genuinely needed.  Much was not. 

When I decided to wean off of allllll that junk a couple of years ago, replacing it with natural and alternative medication I knew it was going to be tough.  I knew it was going to take a LOT to undo everything I had done to my body.  But enough was enough.  And I marched into the fire.

I had a "run" of about 8 months or something without a single thing happening.  No kidney infections.  No stones.  Nothing weird.  Just feeling WHOLE & healthy as I continued (and still continue) to heal. 

ALL of that to say, it's been a LONG, LONNNNNG time since I've dealt with a full on panic attack.   

(sooo ABOUT yesterday...)

Yesterday I woke up feeling  under the weather from this lovely kidney infection I have.  Other than a low grade temp & some back pain though, I was good.  My heart was A-okay, I was breathing normally, etc.  To aid with my kidney health, I drank some CBD coffee, took an extra multigreen, drank an extra ningxia, and chugged water.  

We started homeschooling.  The kids were progressing through their weekly work just fine. 

In between helping them, and doing some biz stuff, I was also able to whip up some sugar cookies.  (Um... an extra multigreen+  ningxia + Super B tabs= energizer bunny Ash).

It was a completely normal day.  And I felt accomplished- useful.  Needed.

It was around 11:30 in the morning I guess, when my body decided to flip the panic switch.  The panic switch that had been "off" for SO. DANG. LONG.

I was sitting by Rosie, doing a dice game, and my heart rate went from "normal" (prob 60's/70s) to racing (130's-140's) in a mere seconds.  

This is why they call these things "panic attacks."  

They just HAPPEN.  There's never a warning, or even a hint of "yo- in a few minutes you're gonna feel like you're dying."

I sat for a minute, woozy, dizzy, light headed, numb, and heart POUNDING.  

When I felt like I could walk without passing out, I found Ryan and told him, "I'm either having a severe panic attack, or a heart attack."

The last time I had a panic attack (or what I thought was a panic attack) ended up being a blood clot.  SO- I can tell you, post blood clot, nothing is ever off the freaking table. 

I'm still in the process of weaning off klonopin, so I had that; however, I'm on such a low dose of klonopin, that it didn't touch the panic.  And I don't have the luxury of taking "extras" because I simply don't have them.  If I were to take more than prescribed, I'd run out of my script early- and that would be a nightmare.  

SO... yesterday I felt everything.  All of the feelings I had worked so hard to numb- they were there, having a party,  And I was the guest of honor.

Guys.  This panic attack took me DOWN.

I laid in bed yesterday until dinner, checking my pulse, and taking deep breaths.  I diffused oil (trauma life) RIGHT over my head, and I let myself be sad.

Because that's what I felt.  Under it all... I felt sadness, and defeat.

Medication had always numbed that for me during panic attacks.

PLEASE LISTEN- a pill (or two, or three- whatever) is NOT going to "fix" you.  Yes, with benzodiazipines your heart rate slows, and you get sleepy.  But the emotional stuff- its all still there.  Steaming with vengeance and ready to wage war.  And unless you want to be in a catatonic state, you gotta feel it all.   

Ryan (who's always winning the best husband award) let me dump everything- EVERY SINGLE THING- onto his plate (which is full on its own- no doubt).

 I was lying in bed, trying to not go out of my mind, so I started to dissect those feelings.

Right off the bat, I realized I was incredibly sad BECAUSE  of simply having the panic attack I never asked for.  

I was also frustrated, and scared.  I've had 2 kidney infections within a month, and while that may not seem like a big deal, it was  kidney infections that used to land me in the hospital.  Having two, so close together scared (is scaring) the crap out of me.  Yep.  I'm terrified!  I think I told Ryan 800 times yesterday, "I can't do it again.  My body can't go through this again."

He kept reassuring me, two kidney infections doesn't mean I'm back in "that place."  He reminded me of how differently we  handle our health now.  How strong I've built my body, and mind... "Ash it would take a LOT more than 2 kidney infections for you to ever be that sick again."  I needed to hear that.  And not just once- I made him say it again, and again.

I honestly thought yesterday was going to either end with me in a body bag (you guys I was like 100000% positive I was having a heart attack) or in the ER, hooked up to an Ativan drip.  

Neither of those situations happened (thankfully:)) 

Yesterday I wanted to blog about our LOVE for Sarasota & why you GOTTA get over there :)

Instead, I cried in bed.  

When I started to come out of that panic haze (if you get panic attacks you know what I'm talking about... its almost like a hangover),  I went into the kitchen- horrible headache, eyes burning from crying for hours- I'm pretty sure I looked like a complete maniac.  

Later, Ryan and I talked about what had happened.  I told him about the sadness and frustration I'm feeling with my body (kidneys- and now the dang panic attack).  I told him how angry and defeated I felt.  It was like the beast of anxiety had unleashed years of lost fury on me.  And I was scared it was going to happen again.  But the biggest thing- the mountain of all mountains- was comprehending I have no control over any of it.  I can only control how I respond.

Listen guys, people with anxiety don't choose it. (HAAA trust me on that)!  We don't go looking for something to panic about.  Brain chemicals that I know nothing about, and have no control over, create the anxiety and panic.  Then, I deal with it.  

If my heart decides to go on a crazy, fast marathon, its gonna do it.  

Yes, there ARE medications for emergencies, and situations like this.  And no, I'm not completely opposed to taking something that I genuinely need.  It's still my goal to wean off klonopin (I'M SO STINKIN CLOSE)... however, Ryan reminded me that it is OKAY to ask for help.  It is OKAY to say you're not okay.  He told me "Ash you could take 4mg of klonopin and that doesn't mean you are lesser than. Do you think you're worth more if you're only taking 1 milligram?"

I thought about that... and sadly. the answer was yes.  The truthful answer in my heart, was "YES."  I feel like a worse mom, wife, sister, daughter, etc. for not being able to fix this on my own.

I started with the rant he loves (NOT) about how he can do ANYTHING and not have to take a single pill.  But if I'm going to fly on an airplane, I need medication.  If I'm going to be in a crowd, give me my 1mg of klonopin.  And he asked again, "So if you take 1mg of klonopin to get through a flight, you're not enough?"

It sounded so dumb as soon as he said it.  But I had to admit, that, "YEP."

There is a lot of pride I like to couple up with my anxiety.  When I have to take my klonopin I subconsciously knock myself down a few notches.  And I'm not writing this so you guys can say "OH you're strong and great, etc.!" 

 NO NO NO.

I'm writing this because for almost 2 years, I've let my anxiety medication dictate my worth.  And that's not fair.  It's wrong.  And if you're struggling with something like this right now, please know you are not a weak person for doing what you need to do, to live a full life.

It's such a slippery slope.  I know all too well how 1mg of klonopin can turn into 2, and then 3, etc.  And I'm SUCH an "anti-meds" freak because I've witnessed first hand the havoc they wreck on your body.  However, I've always held onto the fact that medicine has its place, and acts as a tool to help WHEN NEEDED. 

Next week I'm going to have to tell my psychiatrist that I'm having a hard time with my klonopin dose.  I have to say, "I'm not doing well on this dose.  I'm not okay."  It's gonna suck- because in essence I'm saying, "I need more." And that feels like a whopping pile of defeat because I've worked so hard on weaning.  

But on the other side of the coin, it feels like victory.  Because I will not stay silent and let this disease control my life. I will advocate for the best health care for ME, and I won't ever stop.

And when things start to even out (KIDNEY'S PLEASE GET HEALTHY) I'll be right back on that weaning train. Because it really is a goal I've worked SO.FREAKING.HARD on, and its a goal I still want to achieve.  Will I get there?  God only knows.  Really- God is the only One Who actually knows.

It almost pains me to type this; but I think I needed a full blown panic attack to remind me of that.  

I've been carrying pride around.  Ew.  

Pride, that makes absolutely no sense.  

I am no better or worse, or less- for needing, or NOT needing a medication. 

And neither are you. 

Sorry this post got so lengthy... and thanks for still reading ;)  I just wanted to really make it clear that it is healthy and 100% OKAY to acknowledge when YOU are not healthy, or okay.  And in return, making the necessary life changes- whether it be in your spiritual life, or diet, and yes, even medication, actually makes you pretty strong, and brave. It's easy to drink the alcohol to numb the feelings.  It's easy to take more than prescribed to get some relief.  Those are EASY things.  

Ya know what's hard?  Humbling yourself, and telling someone "I need help."  Sadly, that seems to be harder than pretending you've got it all together, while sneaking alcohol.  Or popping unnecessary pills.  

Friends, please- PLEASE reach out- to someone- ME- anyone- if you're struggling.  

It's okay that you're not okay.  And its going to be okay, because you're addressing it.

Be bold with your mental health.  SPEAK OUT.  Do NOT stay silent.

Be humble with your victories.  They can be snatched in a second.  

And above everything else- just surrender.  

Surrender it all in His name.

I have a tattoo on my wrist that says, "Be still."  The Biblical meaning of that phrase is to go slack.  To fully surrender.  I probably look at those words fifty times a day to remind myself that I can't and won't ever do this alone.  

I surrender all, Jesus.  Even on the days when "pride" says otherwise.  I will always surrender.