Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Have you ever had an anxiety attack?

You should try it.

First, run out of money to refill your meds. Wait a few days. Then, start feeling all irrational and panicky. Be certain that the Universe is conspiring against you.

You will feel tired and sluggish. The room will spin around you. This is normal.

Get irritated with everyone that you see. This is because they are all idiots. The Universe is conspiring to fill your day with morons. Yell at people to make yourself feel better.

Sit at your desk feeling overwhelmed. You won't accomplish anything, of couse. Drive home. Miss your exit.

Get your children. Sit in the car with them at the pharmacy. Pull up behind a minivan. Wait. Another car will pull up behind you. You will get boxed in. The minivan in front of you will sit there, unmoving, for half an hour. You won't be able to move. The car behind you will not let you out. Listen to the Bear cry. She will panic because her arm hurts. Listen as she sobs out "it's breaking me!" for a full ten minutes. Wait for the van to move. Notice that you're still boxed in. Listen to the children crying in the backseat. Wait for the van to move. Notice that you're still boxed in. Listen to the children crying in the backseat. Wait for the van to move. Notice that you're still boxed in. Listen to the children crying in the backseat. Call your husband's cell. He won't answer. Call his desk phone. He won't answer. Call your husband's cell. He won't answer. Call his desk phone. He won't answer. Call your husband's cell. He won't answer. Call his desk phone. He won't answer. Your hands will start to shake. Your chest will constrict. A stabbing pain will shoot through your lungs. You will panic and start yelling at the van in front of you. Your hands will shake harder. You will start to hyperventilate. Try to breathe. Fail. Your brain will race in circles. Good luck trying to calm that one down. Round and round, round and round. You are convinced that you will never make it out of this car, that you will never be able to maintain your calm long enough to take the children home without screaming/beating/killing them. The pharmacy won't have your prescription. They won't have a refill for your daughter's inhaler. Your husband will say matter-of-fact things that are true but unhelpful. You will scream at him and hang up the phone. Consider throwing the phone out the window and running over it several times, a la Office Space. Decide against it. No money for new cell phone. Keep panicking - you'll get the hang of it soon. Drive away. Breathe deeply. Listen to the children suddenly laughing together again. Keep driving. Keep breathing.

Go home. Eat toast for dinner. Lots of jam. Feed toast to children for dinner. Shut up - it's whole wheat. Take pills. Paxil. Valium. Meclizine. Sit on the couch. Let the children romp. Keep breathing. Keep sitting. Soon, you'll start to relax. You'll still feel an underlying anxiety. Yell at your children and family at random intervals. Stare at the television. The sharp pain in your chest will come back. You are having a heart attack. You are dying. Feel a sharp twinge in your midsection. It is appendicitis. It doesn't matter that your appendix is on the other side. This is it. It's a kidney stone. You're ovulating. A hernia.

Realize that you're an idiot.

Listen to the Bear cough and hack in her bed. Listen to Tank cry and scream in hers. Klonopin. At some point, the anxiety will subside in favor of a nice fuzzy feeling. You will still be anxious, but you won't really care. See bugs on the carpet. Wait, no. That's just you. Are the lights moving? No, that's just you.

Go to bed. Tomorrow is another day.

2 comments:

Julie said...

That sucks. Tomorrow's a no-student day, right? And then Thanksgiving -- try to give yourself some time off somewhere in there, if you can.

summer said...

holy crap. you might be my panic twin.