Panic Attacks

It’s been a minute everyone. I tend to be an obsessive person and I apparently haven’t been obsessing about writing lately. This week, I’ve mainly been obsessing over vacation and zero time limits and relaxing. Ahhhhh breath in breath out.

That is why naturally, I decided to blog about my panic attacks. Some people have never had panic attacks and I envy them, I wonder what that must feel like. I guess back in the day panic attacks were good, because when you were a cave lady and about to be eaten by a bear, you got all of this adrenaline and you were like okay bear, come get this shit. But for today’s purposes, panic attacks are the literal worst. A good and bad part about panic attacks are when you know what your triggers are, you can try to work through the panic and grab for that panic attack toolbox and get to werrrrrk. My triggers tend to be airports, getting pulled over, large snow storms, small snowstorms, encounters with Fedex employees, totally kidding on the last example.

For real though, getting pulled over is a gigantic, HUUUUGGGEE, instant panic attack for me. I don’t really know why this is. My therapist and I are trying to work through it. A few years ago, I got pulled over and the officer was gruff with me for lack a of a better word. I have other adjectives, but gruff seems to be the most fitting. By the time he asked me what I did for work, I was a balling baby.

“I have drugs in the car,” I heard myself yell. “There are dead hookers in the trunk, stolen passports all through here, the gas tank is filled with cocaine.”

I mean I feel that instant guilt, shame spiral, whatever you call it when I get pulled over. It is the worst.

By the time the officer left the vehicle an I sat slumped over the steering wheel, he eventually came back and was like “Mam, you gonna drive off or?”

I don’t even think I responded. I might have just mumbled. My strongest self would have you yelled, “you drive the f off!”

That is the hardest part though, to access your stronger self in the middle of a panic attack. More recently I had a panic attack on a teacher workshop day.

These were the events of the day. First off, I thought the workshop day was going to be in my building. For those of you have anxiety, routine and schedule is a big freakin deal right? We like to know whats up, we like to know when we are going to eat and we like to know where the god damn bathroom is. Then I learned that the workshop day would be at the high school and we needed to sign up for different topics. I guess I signed up for a few, I don’t remember, because my other tragic flaw is to live up in the clouds with the unicorns and pretend that a hard day is not going to happen.

We began the day at my school. I felt good in the beginning. I had my coffee, I ate my breakfast, but then on the drive over, I began to feel that heart rate build. This sucks, because this is the beginning. This is like when you feel yourself start to fight with your husband and in your head you say don’t be a bitch Taryn, say this softer, but then that bitch comes out any ways you guys. She comes right to the front. And. that. is . panic. attacks. for me. You can feel it coming, but can’t really put the brakes on.

By the time I got in the highschool (which by the way was my highschool) I had no idea what workshop I was going in. My heart rate was really 5k speeding up and I literally wondered into a room (a trauma workshop no less, bright idea I know) and then I saw what all introverted, panic party people hate and that was no chairs. I don’t know why everyone. I am a brilliant, fabulous woman in her thirties, but when I enter a crowded room with no chairs, I revert right back to being nine years old and Susan turning to me and saying “you can’t sit here” (in a southern accent, although I don’t live in Texas). So I find some chair. It doesn’t look like the other chairs, it probably isn’t even a chair, but I squat the f down in it and I’m like okay I got my water. I know where that bathroom is, because I when I went to this high school, I got up no less than five times every class to use it, I have asked several a girl for a tampon in that bathroom, like I know whats up, its right down the hall.

Cue scary music. All of a sudden we gotta change rooms. Omg totally cool, because I am flexible, functional person, like I’ll get up and move this vibe to another room. By the time I had left the one workshop, I had used all the tools in my panic kit. I had picked up the hammer, the nails, the measuring tape. I had done the breathing, the muscle relaxation, the go to a happy place.

We broke for lunch and by the grace of God, my friend Tracey agreed to walk the track with me. This was the literal only thing that got me through the day. When we checked our watches we had twenty minutes left. Those who know me well know I am a diva about my meals. I don’t skip lunch, I eat with soft music. I get half an hour. Needless to say, standing by your car, chocking on your salad for ten minutes is not a good way to ward off a panic attack.

Following that lovely buffet, I headed back inside and walk to my next workshop. It is packed full with people. We were told to check the math workshop upstairs. This is how my brain works on that news:

“This isn’t what I signed up for.”

“I’d like to go home.”

“That math workshop is in the honors chemistry room and I aint feeling honors chemistry right now.”

While all of this is happening, I see my party people, my LER confidants. Turns out they don’t have a spot to be either. We all blow in this math workshop together. Everyone is seated. Trigger one. These people look smarter than me. Trigger two. No Chairs. Trigger three smart math high school staff.

All of a sudden, my face is hot, my breathing is rapid, I am sweating and I mean like need prescription deodorant sweating. I look over at one of the high school math teachers and he is perched on a stool, calm as a god damn cucumber.

What is hard about a panic attack is that if you saw me that day, I feel like you are watching me implode and in reality no one really notices (unless they know me well), but the feeling of people watching makes it worse.

At my very core, I was thinking I am not doing enough for classroom, for my team, for my family. I am not enough for them and when I went into this workshop , it made me feel like someone handed me a mirror and said here’s also what you aren’t good at.

Through therapy, when I describe this scenario for her, she said what would be the worst case scenario and I said people begin to laugh and say you don’t belong here, you aren’t good enough.

When she asked how I would respond to that. I told her I would say,

“I am trying to real hard. I don’t know everything. A lot of days I’m not good enough.”

And I felt such freedom in that. Even just saying it to her. I think a lot of people who work in schools can relate. Don’t you just ever want to stand up in a room full of people and say , that’s right I’m a fraud. Y’all been working with someone who doesn’t have all the answers, a heart of gold, but not all the answers.”

Ahhhh bliss.

Needless to say, by the time the day was done, I had a migraine like you read about. I had some more work to do on myself and had a few more ideas on what makes me tick, tock and what to do when the minute hand isn’t work the right way. I hope you can relate. I hope you will share your strategies if this is you or someone you love. My strategies will come in a follow up blog. In the meantime, I hope I made you laugh a little, relate a little and be kinder to yourself a lot more.