By Malak Hisham
I thought quite a lot about writing this. We, unfortunately, live in an extremely ignorant society, where mental illnesses are a “taboo” subject. How would people think of me after this? Would this change anything for anyone? How would my friends react? Those were all questions running through my head, all remained unanswered. I almost backed out, and then I thought about how much, at some point, I needed someone to show me that I am not alone. So here I am.
What is a panic disorder? Well, it’s an anxiety disorder where you have recurring panic attacks, causing a series of intense episodes of extreme anxiety during those panic attacks. Due to their recurrence, you spend time worrying when the other one will be, or if it will happen again. That’s the definition of Panic Disorder, the scientific one at least. Simple enough, right? No. Let me enlighten you.
It’s you waking up and almost instantly biting your nails wondering if you’ll have another panic attack today. It’s you reviewing how your entire day will go and narrow down the possibilities of you having one. It’s the side effects of the medication you were prescribed that no one warned you about, its agonizing nightmares, sleepless nights, nausea and moodiness to name a few. It’s your social life deteriorating due to your out-of-control mood swings, and the fact that most people won’t understand nor will they make an effort to. It’s waking up after a nightmare, panting, racing to draw in a breath, and going straight into a panic attack. It’s having to be careful to not make too much noise so you won’t wake up your mother in the middle of the night, and it’s you panicking even more over it. It’s being in the middle of the street with your friends laughing one minute, and then feeling like you’re dying the next. It’s your legs crumbling underneath you, it’s your chest collapsing within itself, and it’s feeling like your lungs are on fire. It’s the tingling, the shaking, the shivering, and the numbness. It’s feeling like you’re dying even though you’re not. It’s feeling like your heart is about to stop even though it’s beating relentlessly hard. It’s all the voices blurring together; it’s all the shapes and figures around you merging into one. It’s the dizziness and feeling like you’re going to faint, but you never do. It’s the sense of dread settling in when you realize what’s happening and that you can do almost nothing to stop it; no matter how much you want to.
It’s (in my case) hating to be touched during a panic attack, yet needing comfort all at the same time. It’s you freaking out even more while having a panic attack in public, because you’re afraid people will see you. It’s like a freaking rollercoaster that won’t seem to stop.
It’s having to hear “It’s all in your head” “Just get over it” “Thank God because others have it much worse” and it’s you having to bite your tongue to keep you from screaming “IT DOESN’T WORK THAT WAY!” It’s everyone around you asking you “Are you okay?” and “What can I do to help?” a hundred times, and you trying with everything in you to force the words out of your mouth but all that comes out is a painful gasp. It’s the shameful feeling you get in your gut, even though there is nothing to be ashamed of. It’s wanting to erase the stigma around mental illnesses, but having to face the fact that you cannot do it on your own. It’s feeling like a burden on all your friends no matter how many times they’ve told you otherwise.
It’s begging people to understand that we don’t “do” it to gain attention, on the contrary, we actually hate having people’s eyes burning holes into us.
It’s seeking help, and thinking medication will be the quick fix you’re all too desperate for, but it’s like a slap on the face when you realize that it isn’t. It’s having to change your therapist/psychiatrist countless times till you find the one that works with you best. It’s being prescribed tons of medication, and once you find the one that finally works for you, you’ll realize that “Good medications have shitty side effects”. It’s being mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted from having hour-long panic attacks. It’s trying to be audacious, even though you’re anything but. It’s having to endure all the wary looks from your friends as though you’re a ticking bomb that will explode in any second.
This is my experience with Panic Disorder. It varies greatly, so my experience in no way has to relate to yours. However, this is my way of showing you, if you have the same disorder as mine, that you are not alone. Moreover, if you are reading this and you do not have any kind of mental illness, this is me shedding some light on the fact that we do exist. It’s real, it’s crap, but it’s okay. We aren’t “crazy”; we aren’t lunatics. We, as hard as it is to comprehend, are normal. This is me taking the first step. This is me trying to show you that having a mental illness is the same as having a physical one. It has symptoms, it has complications, and it has cures. Having a mental illness shouldn’t automatically label you as someone who’s “insane”, someone people should avoid. We aren’t some freaks of nature; we are normal. We’re the same as you are, just a tad bit more complicated.
