Manic Panic

I had a panic attack the other day. Not a hypothetical one as in my last post, but a real, scary, physically and mentally tolling one...

Really, the attack occurred in the early morning, around 4:30-5:00. The day before that, around noontime, I had gone to a class held by a clinical psychologist in the behavioral health class on the Air Force base. It was me - a plain, young civilian - in a room full of soldiers. The class was about relaxations, and covered the differences between calm and stress - both physiologically and psychologically, though less on the psychology. Rapid heartbeat versus normal or slow heartbeat, fast, shallow breathing versus normal or slow breathing, muscle tension versus looseness, and so on and so forth...

Later, nearer to when the panic attack happened, I was told to get some yard work done - racking some leaves off of the concrete areas of the backyard and doing a little weed whacking, or at least getting rid of some of the tall grass and weeds. When I was asking for the sheers, since it was quite obvious that the weeds were too thick to cut with a weed whacker, I was told it was in the shed, but that the shed had a hornets' nest. It was also suggested that I should take out the nest, which I said should be fine while they were still dormant. However, despite all of this, I knew that those sheers weren't what I was talking about.

At this time, and maybe even earlier, I was going through a bit of a manic phase. It was obvious once I got up and moving around. I was searching for those sheers like a madman, turning over everything that they could've been hiding under. I went all over the house. My overhead light in my room hasn't worked in probably over a year, now, but I needed light to search my room - where I thought they most likely were. They're just scissor-like sheers with two or three inch blades put back into their original package.

I got my brother to replace the overhead light and, voilà, there they were, under a pile of... well, assorted things, after a manic search with a heart beating a million miles per hour and breathing like a hot dog. After I found those, I decided that the next thing I needed to do was deal with the hornets' nest. Something to note is that I'm deathly afraid of wasps, and basically any bug that bites or stings - but especially the first (and spiders.) So, can of deadly chemicals in hand, I slowly crept up to the nest hanging just over the shed doorway like mistletoe, I started spraying and spraying and spraying. I could see several wasps just drop down dead, but even then, I started spraying the grass they fell into, then switching back to the nest itself. The nest was soaked and dripping, the spray all over my hand, having had held the trigger on the can for probably thirty or more seconds without letting go.

They were undoubtedly dead at that point, but I was also hyperventilating. Mix that with my meds, which have sedating properties, I was barely in my right mind, woozy and stumbling. I climbed up the deck stairs up into the house. The world seemed like it was spinning and I felt like I was going to pass out. My hand - the one that got the spray all over it - was burning, so I read the back of the can which, at the time, was quite a feat. It said to immediately rinse the skin which it came into contact with for fifteen to twenty minutes with plenty of water.

I went into the bathroom and got to the sink. I then just let the water pour and pour and pour, as I laid my head on the faucet feeling the warmth of the hot water passing through it on my forehead and the steam rising to my face. I was still breathing rapidly and shallowly at this point, my heart beating faster than I could've kept up with counting, even with a clearer mind.

After maybe ten minutes of the rinsing, for some reason, I thought I should still go back out and start cutting the big, prickly weeds in the backyard. I don't really know why I did it, but I did. Being on the brink of fainting and trying to do yard work while simultaneously being paranoid about every little sensation just doesn't make a good fit. I was accidentally passing through small spider threads and would frantically - almost psychotically - start trying to pull the threads off as if they were laced with some sort of neurotoxin. After five or ten minutes of trying to cut weeds, I then frantically ran up the deck stairs in the backyard, neurotically looking for any wasp nests or spiders, until I finally got back inside.

I went downstairs and frantically searched for clothing and a towel. When I did, I went back upstairs as quickly as I could, stumbling around, until I got back into the bathroom. I jumped into the shower as quickly as I could and just sat there. I began to settle down, but it seemed so mentally exhausting that I somehow went from manic, to frantic, to exhausted and nearly depressed in just thirty to forty minutes. I was so mentally and physically exhausted that I nearly fell asleep in the shower.

When I was finally done, I was calmer but had absolutely no life in me. I went to bed and nearly slept the whole day away. I kept on thinking to myself, "If I get up, then I might be told to do yard work." There was no way I was going back outside; at least not for a few days. I didn't want another panic attack, and I didn't want to even spot a single wasp. When I finally woke up past 19:30, I just casually went to eat something and then went downstairs. I did also bring up the whole debacle with mom, trying to make sure that it was understood that I wasn't going outside. A bit of an agoraphobic episode. I still don't really want to leave the house - not even a single foot out the door.

I never thought it could be so... traumatic. The hornets weren't even awake, though they did do a number to mom's arm the day before. That probably didn't help, nor did the visual my brother gave me of the wasps seemingly spewing from a relatively unknown location. All of that added to the suspense and anticipatory anxiety. I've always had a fear of wasps, and I've always had some pretty panicky reactions whenever even a single wasp got within ten feet of me. I had never had a full-blown panic attack, though - not that I can remember. So this was certainly unexpected and extreme.

If a single hair on my body moves, I automatically think a wasp or spider is crawling on me. If I get even the smallest poke, I think I'm getting stung or bitten. If I see a tiny shadow pass over the ground or just over me, I think a wasp is flying over or around me. The paranoia kills me, and it's not actually unusual for me; it's just been unusually bad since the attack. Every year, during summer especially, I live in fear for at least moments of almost every day, submerged in the paranoia of little creepy crawly things. I love winter because most of such critters are dormant or dead, just how I like them. My anxieties and paranoia become less frequent and bothersome. But summer... the worse season of all for so many reasons, creepy crawlies at the top of the list.

So... that was a real panic attack - not some hypothetical example. That was real, genuine fear I felt, fear for my life. I felt like I was going to die, like I was going to drown without even an ounce of water. It seemed as though I was going to suffocate, or fill my blood and muscles with carbon dioxide. I've had that happen once before... and it was probably one of the most traumatising moments in my life. It happened in an entirely different situation, and altered my life quite dramatically, but the symptoms were all too similar.

I'll give myself a few days break from the outside world... more so than usual. Hopefully I'll get over it soon, but I'll just give myself some time to try and shake it off. But... one thing's for sure - I won't forget it for a long time.