I didn't know what a panic attack was until I had one

Trigger Warning: this post deals with mental health

Good morning,

Been a few days so I thought I’d let you in on what’s been happening with me.

(First up, I know some of you are here for a daily dose of positive inspo. If so, I suggest you bail out now. But I also know some of you are here because you like to hear what’s on my mind. So here goes…)

I’d had a great weekend.

I wrote about it here in fact.

I was happy. I would even describe myself as ridiculously joyful.

Driving along the freeway, singing out loud to music, genuinely happy with my life.

Then it hit me.

I was dying.

Not dying in that exact moment, but I had a flash of psychic insight.

My time was up. I was going to die and I’d had a good 49-and-a-half years but it was now all over.

I didn’t know how I was going to die, or the exact date. Just that it was my turn to go and the decision had been made. Paperwork completed, rubber stamped by the Gods.

It overwhelmed me in the way grief can. The best way I can explain it was that it felt like I had just received a phone call to tell me someone I love very much had died.

That someone in this instance was me.

It hit me like a tonne of bricks and I immediately started crying. The crying quickly turned into bawling. Bawling into howling. Howling into screaming. Out loud.

My ultimate fear in life is dying. Not necessarily the act of it, but more to the fact that I really like it here and don’t want to go. I still have a heap of stuff I want to do, including seeing my kids grow up, travelling, new adventures etc. This is definitely not an act of desperation or self-harm. It’s the opposite. I’m kicking and screaming (literally in this case) to stay here.

Somehow through the fog of grief I managed to make a call to my best mate. This was late at night and I just prayed he’d realise it was important and pick up. Which he did.

He talked me off the freeway and to park the car safely. He then talked me through some box breathing exercises. It worked temporarily but my genuine feeling of overwhelm consumed me. It swallowed me whole and as much as I tried to resurface I was instantly dragged back under. It was the rip in the ocean. Doesn’t matter how hard you swim against it, the rip has you and won’t let go.

I asked him to call my wife and let her know what was happening.

When he came back on the line he asked me to nominate a place in my mind where I felt safe. I said it was with my Nanna, laying in her bed, her hand stroking my hair saying ‘it’s okay, I’m here’.

It was surprising to me that I was able to take myself there so quickly. All my senses were able to channel the memory so quickly. Touch, smell, warmth.

This temporarily calmed me down and then my wife called and my distress started all over again. She said she was coming to get me.

For some reason this should have been the most comforting news but it piqued my anxiety immediately. I didn’t believe her. Not that she was lying of course - it was that my overwhelm had taken over my functioning power and I simply couldn’t think straight.

I kept saying to myself that she wasn’t coming and had to keep checking our family tracking app every minute or so to see if the car was heading my way.

When she arrived (with both kids in tow) I let it all out. Again. I told them through my uncontrollable crying that I knew I was dying but I didn’t want to.

We left my car where I pulled off the freeway to collect the next day. I laid down in my daughter’s lap in the back seat as she stroked my head. Familiar comfort from two generations before.

The next day, my rational brain had regained some control (but not fully) and I wanted to go and get as many medical tests as I could. Was I really dying? If so how, and when? I was desperate for answers.

Blood tests come back pretty quickly these days and I was given the all-clear. It wasn’t a moment of relief as it should have been. My brain still tells me I’m dying and from what I’ve read from panic attacks this is normal. The panic symptoms subsides but the memory of what was panicked about remains. It’s left a tattoo on my belief systems.

As someone who prides themselves on being certain on almost everything (‘sometimes wrong, never in doubt’), this was a terrible shock to my system. I know now what it feels like to have a panic attack and have spoken to a few people since who know the experience too.

You wish it’s logical but it’s not. It’s your body’s response to protect you from even irrational thoughts.

I’m eternally grateful to my mate and my family who held me together when I needed it the most.

I feel physically weakened and emotionally drained.

But I’m still here.

Hopefully for a lot longer yet.

Wade