Anxiety and how it's high-jacked my life

When I wake up in the morning or when I lay my head down to sleep, usually the same thing is on my mind: anxiety.

I've been dealing with anxiety and the accompanying panic attacks since September 30th of last year. So for a full year (and then some) I've been struggling with the affects of this this thing that has (as indicated in the blog title) high-jacked my life as I've known it. And for the last few months, I didn't think I could go on living this way anymore. I. Am. Done.

I'm no doctor, but I don't think all anxiety is the same and it depends on the person. My symptoms can be pretty severe (in my opinion, obvs) and... it's horrible! I've said it before and I'll say it again: I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.

If I had to pin point the beginning of my own person hell it all started August 2011. I was a newer driver and got into a car accident. It wasn't my fault and it wasn't that big of an accident, even though the front of my car was completely smashed in, but it triggered something in me. It brought an enormous amount of stress into my life. I had to worry about getting my car fixed in order to get to my two jobs at the time and also in order to get it back in time to pick up my boyfriend from the airport, on our way to our yearly "big vacation". The other person's Insurance rep was giving me grief and my car needed a whole new front. By the time that vacation rolled around, I had a horrible rent a car and the ex gave me grief about it being too small and how I should complain and so on. He wasn't the most understanding person.

I cant remember when it started, if it was in Honolulu (vacation distinction as orchestrated by the ex, but I paid my half) or before then, but I was dealing with this sensation in my mouth. It felt like I had something, like a hair ball, in my throat. It also made my tongue feel like I had a lump on the left side of it. It was annoying. And also, it was making eating and swallowing very difficult. I felt like I needed something to drink with me at all times, to take sips when I needed to cleanse that feeling. This sensation followed me on vacation. I barely ate and, if I did eat, I had to be careful of what I ate. Foods like bread and other starches made my mouth feel very dry and it wouldn't go down without the feeling of chocking. I ate very small in size and amount. The boyfriend wasn't alarmed as he was kind of upset I was making such a big deal about nothing, in his opinion. That week and a half was rough. And the one time I did eat a big meal, I got food poising. As did he. For two days we were in trapped in bed in paradise.

In Hawaii, I did have a panic attack, be it that I had an episode of some sort that I didn't know was a panic attack until I got home. He was driving and I was in the passenger seat when I felt my heart race like crazy. It was freaking me out. I've had this feeling and this situation happen before, but I was at home and I had my brother with me. I slept it off in his presence and it never happened again. But here I was (and these were my thoughts during the episode) with a guy who I know won't be understanding or helping, in another state other than my home state of CA, on an island in the middle of the Pacific, on a two lane highway with nothing but grass and fields on either side. I asked him to stop the car on the side so I could take my breath and have a minute. I begged, closing my eyes and laying my head back on the headrest. He said he couldn't, that he had to piss, and we were close to the hotel. To just wait until we got there. As I predicted, he was not understanding. In fact, he seemed annoyed by this. Like, I was doing this on purpose and I was acting out? I don't know what he thought I was doing or doing to myself. Yup, I choose nothing but winners in the romance department.

Our vacation ended and during the flight I had that racing heart feeling again. But I had water and I don't remember having a horrible experience, but I remember it wasn't pleasant. He flew back to Boston where he lived and lives, and I went back to work that Tuesday. I still had that hair in the throat feeling and it was getting worse. I woke up and went to sleep with the feeling of chocking at all times. I had plans to go to the doctor to see what was the matter. Then, Friday rolled around.

At this point in my life I was working my full time job and a part time job. I was driving from my one job to the other, like I've done for almost a year now. On my route to work and home I must drive through a canyon. I stretch of 3.1 miles that has become my idea of daily torture. But before the, I never thought twice about it. But on this day, it's where all my trouble started. Behind the wheel I started to feel my heart race again, violently. And that lump on my tongue now felt like it was suffocating my airway. I panicked. I pulled over to the side of the road as quickly as I could. I was having a panic attack and no one was around to help me. I thought about flagging a car down as I tilted my seat back and tried to catch my breath, trying to calm myself down. All I could think about was getting out of the canyon and to my second job. Somehow I made it through the canyon, but my pulse was racing and throat felt like it was closing up on me.

I got to the mall where I was working, after pulling over an additional time to catch my breath and calm down, but I knew something was wrong. I pulled into a parking spot and feeling I could not drive anymore. In a frantic panic, I called my brother and begged for him to help me. I was hysterical, in tears, in panic. I told him I felt like I was dying, to please help me. He told me to calm down, that he was on his way. While I waited for him, I just panicked. I got in the car to lay down, got out of the car to catch my breath, got back in... and back out. The idea of flagging a car down to help me was almost realized. There had to be a nice woman, possibly a mom, who would help me if I pleaded. Maybe I would remind them of their daughter or son and take care of me. My brother got to me about 10 minutes after my phone call, but to me, it felt like a hour. He had called my dad to tell him what was happening. I got into his truck and I was inconsolable. I was in tears and I was a mess. He said he was taking me to my aunt's house where my dad was and they would take me to the doctor from there. I looked at him with panic in my heart, telling him he had to take me to the hospital and immediately, because I felt like I was dying. He sped down the road as I laid I'm the passenger seat, crying, telling him that I didn't wanna die. Not like this. I freaked him out. He was basically yelling at me, telling me I wasn't gonna die. I told him to talk to me, to tell me about his basketball team. Anything to keep my mind occupied with something other than my eminent death. He told me about his team, about this friend's new girlfriend, everything, and anything until we finally got to the hospital. I got out and sat in the waiting area in terror as my brother spoke to the lady behind the desk. It wasn't busy, thank goodness, and I was ushered in quickly. The nurse (I think it was a nurse) asked what was the matter and I told her I was dying. Has she never seen someone dying before?! They hooked me up to his wonderful machine that pumped me up with wonderful medicine that helped me calm down. The doctor came in and told me I was having a panic attack. Shortly after my dad came in. And he was worried, it was written all over his face. I felt really bad for putting him through it. He and I have a strange/strained relationship, but that story is for another time. The new doctor gave me some medicine to help me if I was feeling worse and we all went to my aunt's house so I could relax.

Oh, I was feeling better now. I was high as a kite and that lump on my tongue was gone, too! At my Tia's house my ordered pizza and this was the first time in at least a month I ate without one problem. I ate pizza like there was no tomorrow. I was driven home afterwards, took a wonderful pill and passed out immediately.

That Monday I called into work and called my doctor, asking to be seen immediately. My car had been retrieved from the mall parking lot and I got behind the wheel. The drive to my doctor is about 10 miles or even less, but it was the longest drive of my life. My heart started racing again and I was in terror. I was panicking again. Oh no! I thought. This cannot be my normal routine now! Is this life as I know it now? I saw my doctor and I just unraveled. I was hysterical, telling her what had happened 72 hours prior and what just occurred in the road. She took me off work for a week in order to get myself back to normal. That week I went to see a specialist for that invisible lump in my throat. There was nothing there, And the drive there? Horrible, frightening. That week at home I stayed in bed, feeling that panic and anxious feeling all day and night. I would of given anything to be at work, feeling like my normal self.

So we fast forward to now. Panic and anxiety is something I deal with everyday. It has handicapped my life. Driving is horrible for me, so much so that only recently I couldn't drive to work anymore. Thankfully I have a family member I work with and I got to carpool. But anxiety has really ruined my quality of life. Stress from work attributes to my anxiety. I only feel okay at home, on the weekends. When I don't work and I don't have to drive far.

Driving itself isn't the problem, I don't think. It's the idea that no one will be around if another episode happens. What if I'm driving through an unpopulated industrial area or though another canyon? Who will be there to help me? In the last few months I've become very depressed, thinking that this isn't how I want to live anymore, is living like this worth living at all? Zoloft hasn't been helping and neither has talking to a therapist. I was running out of options. And running out of reasons to live like this. Or live at all. I was tired. I was despite. I was frustrated. And I've had enough. I wasn't living anymore. I was just existing, existing with anxiety. And existing wasn't worth it anymore. Not like this.

This passed Monday I saw a hypnotist. This was it. My last resort. I had and have no other options. Pills haven't worked, therapist hasn't either. This my my last option, because then what?!

Did it work?