I have high-functioning panic disorder and depression.
Oof. It’s nice to get that out of the way right at the start, as I have no clue how to begin this one. I don’t know what this will be, friends; I don’t know what all will be in here. All I know is that, a couple weeks ago, I was saddened by and tired of hearing about people feeling isolated in their mental illness battles, being unable to ask for help because they were afraid of judgment or felt too weak. I’ve been trying to find the bravery to write about my own experience ever since. Because while I know exactly where they’re coming from—it’s still so hard for me to ask for help or talk about what I’m feeling—and while the world around us has, indeed, gotten better at listening, there still needs to be more of us talking. There’s still a stigma that needs to be stopped.
Hey, guys. This will be a much more serious post today, something very vulnerable, something that I rarely, if ever, openly discuss. If you don’t want to read it, I don’t blame you, and I won’t be offended if you move on. For those of you that stay, thank you. Let’s talk.
(One disclaimer from me before moving on: I’m not a certified psychologist or psychiatrist. I’m only speaking from my own experiences here. Please, don’t diagnose yourself or a friend via what I’m saying. I just hope to provide unity and understanding, for both myself and others. <3)
Okay. Maybe the easiest way to start this is just some general FAQs:
1) What is panic disorder?
It’s hard to get an actual definition here, since it exists under the umbrella of anxiety disorders. Panic disorder is essentially an anxiety disorder characterized by “sudden and repeated attacks of fear that last for several minutes or longer” (courtesy of the National Institute of Mental Health). Basically, certain stressors trigger a much larger response than they would in someone without panic disorder, causing a panic attack. These look different for everyone; I’ll tell you more about mine later.
2) How long have you had panic disorder and depression?
I’m not sure, really. I was diagnosed with both of them in middle school; I remember feeling symptoms close to what I feel now around age 7. My first panic attacks didn’t start until around sixth grade (if they were before then, I straight up don’t remember).
3) Do you see a therapist?
Off and on, when needed. I started seeing an incredible one this previous fall, and I talk to her when I need it. I’m a huge advocate of everyone going to therapy, too, as it’s important to take care of your mind just as you take care of your body.
4) Do you take medication?
Nope. I’ve inquired about it, but, ultimately, it’s been my decision to avoid it. However, if I know a full-blown, I’m-gonna-debilitate-you-for-like-several-hours panic attack will be hitting me soon, I take a Dramamine. It helps to stabilize me, and I can more easily fight against and beat the strain. Once again, though, I try to avoid that when I can.
5) What does a panic attack look/feel like?
Like I said before, attacks feel and look different for everyone. I can only tell you about mine. Since I have “high-functioning” panic disorder (I don’t really like that phrase, hence the quotations), I find I have two types of panic attacks: verging and full-blown. I can hide when I’m having one in public fairly well; those will be the verging ones. They’re smaller, invisible, and tend to leave me feeling shaken only for around twenty minutes or so. When I’m by myself, though, and a stressor gets the best of me, I can go into a full-blown attack. These are exhausting, and I’m typically down and out for the rest of the day. So, to make it easier to read, I’ll bullet point what happens to me below:
a) Verging: slight dissociation (kind of like a floating sensation); hyperfocus; internalized shaking; tightened chest; difficulty breathing; increased jaw tension; slight sensory overload
b) Full-blown: full dissociation (like an out of body experience); tunnel vision; blurred eyesight; claustrophobia; hyperfocus; ringing ears; bodily tremors; too-fast synapses (the two sides of my brain stopping communication between them); uncontrollable crying; inability to breathe; chest pain; hypertension; sensory overload
Fortunately, b has become less and less often as I’ve developed coping mechanisms for it. I now largely deal with a, stopping it before it gets bad. At the times in my life when I’ve been at my worst, I had as many as three huge panic attacks a week; I’m much better now, thanks to self-determination, holistic treatment, therapy, and a supportive circle of my favorite people. I’m grateful for every day I don’t go full-blown.
(Quick side note here: while I don’t use medication, I pass no judgment on the people that choose to, and no one else should, either. If medicine works, then, by all means, use it healthily. Take care of yourself. <3)
6) What does “high-functioning” mean?
Okay, I’m not keen on this phrase. I get that there’s a spectrum for mental illness, but the phrase feels like it’s ranking me above people who are having a harder time currently, and that’s both dumb and harmful. Unfortunately, I don’t know what else to use to describe it. Basically, “high-functioning” means that my disorder and depression don’t fully debilitate me. Most people can’t tell that I have it unless I tell them: it’s, like, my best-kept secret, or something. I can still carry on a normal, successful life, and the public can’t really tell. I don’t know if that’s impressive, terrifying, sad, or odd. Maybe all of the above? (There was a wonderful article written for The Mighty on this. I’ll link it here.)
Okay, I think that’s all the generalized questions I can think of, at least for now. If you have any more, hit me up. I’ll be more than willing to talk to you about it.
We get to the more complicated stuff now, and that’s the idea of my stressors, or triggers. The people who know of my mental illness and want to help ask me all the time what to look out for, what sends me spiraling. But here’s the thing, the big difference between panic disorder and anxiety disorder: half the time, I don’t know. The panic isn’t logical. While I self-reflect after the fact, and typically figure out what the heck caused my brain to freak out, I don’t ever know beforehand what’s going to trigger me. For example:
~I love rollercoasters and airplanes, but sitting in the balcony of a theatre or a stadium frightens me. (Heights, man.)
~I love road trips, but I’m so terrified of driving that I can’t even sit behind the wheel yet. (It was really, really bad the last time I tried.)
~I wasn’t all that scared to meet my boyfriend’s parents, but I was terrified of being around his friends (and still struggle with it, though they’re truly lovely people).
~I adore having a view of the water, but getting anywhere near it sends my heart racing (I can’t swim).
~I love getting to know people and am forever fascinated by learning about them, but I still get anxious about saying something stupid around people I’ve known forever (literally what).
And the weirdest one, the one that I know everyone is thinking of asking me about: no, this doesn’t affect me when I’m performing. In fact, performance is the only place where I feel comfortable, calm, and fully focused. Even auditioning doesn’t affect me that badly anymore: it’s status quo now. I still get nervous, but it’s the butterflies every performer gets before going on, nothing else. It’s so freeing. There’s a lot that goes into that, but I shan’t bore you with it now. Save it for later. ;)
So, yeah, triggers are weird. Panic attacks are largely illogical, but that doesn’t make them invalid. The exhaustion and feelings of helplessness and hopelessness they bring are very, very real. To quote the famed Albus Dumbledore, “Of course this is happening inside your head…but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”
I’ve found ways to cope with the struggles that can come with panic disorder. Music is a big one. Journaling is another. Yoga helps, and I meditate when I can figure out how to focus (which, to be honest, isn't often). Combating cognitive dissonance with physicalization, or the idea of chakras, crystals, and invocation have worked well for me, too. Some days, I just need to curl up on my bed with some chocolate and a book. And some days, nothing works, and I just have to let it happen. Those days are few and far between now, at least (and thank god, ‘cause they suck). I’ve figured out how to help myself, with the aid of others. It took a lot of experimentation to get there, though. If you’re struggling, or if a friend is, please keep trying. Something will work, I promise.
When I was younger, I let my mental illness get the best of me. Was it partially spurned on because of environment? Yes, absolutely. Should I have focused more on myself? Also, yes. I let this damn thing run my life for too long. I let it repeat cruel words to me; I let it take over my body; I let it dictate what I could or couldn’t do.
I don’t do that anymore.
Instead, I breathe. I take chances, because, hell, I might not get another one. I read about holistic health and beauty, I listen to podcasts, I enjoy my fiction, I write, I sing, I dance. I struggle through talking about my feelings, because I need to. I push myself to converse with new people. I cry for fifteen minutes instead of holding it in. I try to change those words inside my head. And none of it is easy. Ever. Genetics and brain chemistry decided it wasn’t going to be. But I think that makes me stronger. My individual burden to bear.
It’s been hard, but I’ve never been alone. I’m grateful for a family that, even if they don’t understand me, love me just the same and tell me it’s going to be okay. I’m grateful for a boyfriend with an angel’s patience and incomparable compassion. I’m grateful for friends that stick around, even when I cancel on plans or take too long to talk. I’m grateful for incredible counselors and their generosity. I’m grateful for teachers that listened, cared, and empowered. I’m grateful for fictional characters that felt like an incarnation of me, and for artists that created them. I’m just grateful. I forget that some days, but I am. I don’t take any of it for granted.
This is long enough, so I’ll stop here. Thanks for listening to my heart, guys, as I’ve now put things onto the Internet that I rarely say in real life. You’re all incredible.
And you’re never alone. Remember that, okay? <3
As always, thank you for reading. Have a wonderful day.
~Rhiannon~
No photos mine. The first three are Lane Wesley Photography; the others, found via Pinterest.
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