ed note: i want to thank all of those who email me about their own anxiety problems. i greatly appreciate all the feedback I’ve been getting from people, however, please PLEASE do not email me with “what do i do” because i am not a physician and nor can i tell you if you have any sort of anxiety or not. Please seek medical help so that someone can diagnose you PROPERLY. if you email me with “how do i know if i have anxiety or not” your email will be deleted. thank you.
i had my first “recorded” anxiety attack when i was 13.
i say recorded because that is the first memory i had of an attack. the image is still so clear in my head, it’s disgusting. i remember walking down the hall towards a class and coming upon a group of girls who were in my grade. the popular ones. the ones everyone loved. the ones that were getting asked out by the boys to dances and had “dates.” i remember my heart pounding so hard that you could watch it through my shirt. after passing the girls, my heart rate slowed and i felt better. but i didn’t understand what was going on.
during the next several years, the anxiety attacks worsened or lessened depending on the context. the time i had stayed out all night with Alan and had come home at 8am in the morning to be chastised by my mother. the attack in NYC this spring when i was out with friends having a cigarette because my relationship with paul was so new that i was afraid of the consequences. the lead on attacks last October on my way to Virginia. They are like a college in my head because depending on the situations and the severity, I can only remember the ones that stand out but thinking back, while laying on my back, i can recall almost all the more important ones and how they lead into my life.
the last year of my life has provided enough stress to take on the world. clearly i can see how the breakdown began with my breaking up with Justin, the stress of living with people I did not like and could barely tolerate, to moving to Virginia, to finding out that friends are not really friends, to my father dying, the reuniting with my mother.
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i wrote the above at 4am this morning when i had first gotten up. or actually since I didn’t go to bed, just from laying there hearing paul snore. my sinuses were dripping and my face felt like someone was banging on it slowly due to the intense pressure. i got up and walked around and started writing.
I’m still angry for a lot of things. I’m angry at time and how fast things go by.
i made it my objective this morning to get up early, work out and get to work on time. which, considering i had 3 hours of sleep, never occurred. now it’s nearing 11pm and I’m tired and exhausted having spent majority of the day playing “diagnose lisa issues”.