Therapy is a beautiful tool

Well... after my post yesterday I still had a full on anxiety/panic attack anyway. For about an hour, I was heaving and writhing on the floor... crying, shaking and twitching. Looking and feeling a mess. Wondering where the "off" switch was on my life. It was a lot going on. It was scary and difficult to control. It was hard to convince myself that I wasn't going to die in that moment and that no matter what I was dealing with or going through, that I was going to be okay.

Have you ever had a really ugly cry? I mean, snot everywhere, tears that just jump off your face... its like that but ranked up like 10x. I am emotional, and I cry easily so tears don't scare me much. But when my mind continues to unravel and I feel like there is no bottom, no way out of the madness... and my body reacts harshly to those those thoughts... that's when I become afraid. That's when I'm in full on panic mode.

After I was under control a bit, I called my therapist and asked to be squeezed in to her calendar. I knew that if I didn't see her as soon as possible, the likelihood of another panic attack was high. And there was no telling where it may happen -- the subway, the office, on the street, who knew? I then got dressed and left to go to my dr. appointment that I already had scheduled for the day. I'll discuss that in a separate post.

I like my therapist. I really do. And its because I truly value her service to my life. I know that a lot of people don't believe in therapy, or think that it isn't a necessity to their life but I know that I've been helped by my therapist so I always encourage others to give it a try when their life warrants it. I haven't seen my therapist since before I started my chemotherapy in 2008. We sat down and caught up and then tried to figure out what was bothering me... so much that I was having nightmares and panic attacks. She found it really amazing that I had not had a panic attack at all during my treatment period. For all that I have been through, a moment where the world crashes around your head doesn't seem too far fetched. But honestly, I never imagined that I would have another panic attack in my life.

After discussing all the details of the past two years, my fears and my concerns... we stumbled on what was giving me grief. Turns out, it wasn't me that I was panicking over. It was my dad. This Friday marks the second anniversary of the day he almost died from a brain aneurysm. I had not realized just how scared I was by the idea of his death. And those emotions were lost in the shuffle of my own stuff because of breast cancer.

The interesting thing about therapy for me is that its like having a good conversation with an old friend. It never feels like what I see on television -- some strange person grilling me about my life, my childhood, etc. It always feels like a talk with someone who knows me really well and wants to help me see what I'm missing. Generally speaking, I am in tune with myself emotionally. That doesn't mean that I always understand what I'm doing or what I'm feeling but I do acknowledge those feelings and allow them to come. As long as I do that, I will stay balanced and okay.

I have a lot of things on my mind -- like everyone else -- and I have to make some decisions and changes soon. But at least now I know that the likelihood of me having another panic attack is low. That is a good thing.

Anxiety/panic attacks and breast cancer

There is a train of thought among breast cancer survivors that stress could be a principle reason why someone gets breast cancer. I don't believe that there are any studies that can connect stress directly to breast cancer -- but that doesn't stop the conversation from going on among survivors. We all know that stress can cause havoc in our lives and that it is detrimental to our health. But, the nature of the world that we live in leavese many of us  feeling like you simply have to deal with it. Stress is a part of life -- for all of us.

Similar to stress is anxiety. The worry about something that may happen in the future or that has happened in the past. However, anxiety is usually based upon our imagined fears moreso than something that has actually happened. It is the eternal... "what if" question(s) that pushes us into a bad mental and physical space.

I mentioned recently that I was sick all last week. And after having a low-key but fun weekend, I thought I was ready to return to work and get back into the swing of things. But... instead, this morning as I was preparing for work... I started falling down the rabbit hole directly into an anxiety attack. I haven't had one of these in years. Until just now. (which is why I'm writing at the moment... writing calms me and brings me peace and I needed to bring myself down... before I got too far out of control)

During an anxiety attack, or a panic attack, the person literally feels as though some impending danger is rising against them -- possibly to the point of death. The escalating tension can push you so far that you start to hyper-ventilate, shake, cry... and so forth. Your body will react to the anxiety if you don't find a way to calm yourself down.

It is embarrassing to write these words. Knowing that thousands of people will read about one of my deepest shames doesn't make me happy this morning. However, in order to deal with anxiety, you have to know how to recognize when you've been triggered and you have to be able to find a way to calm yourself. Otherwise, you can end up in a really bad space. Considering how fragile I am in general, I would guess that my anxiety could easily land me back in the hospital. I'm in no hurry to sit in the emergency room, or have an ambulance come and take me away this morning. So I'm writing. I'm purging. I'm telling you what I'm going through... so hopefully I will push past this and be able to get back to a good place.

Over the weekend, I had an outrageous nightmare. It woke me out of my sleep -- which was really surprising because I was very comfortable not thinking about much when I went to bed. My nightmare was ridiculous but it scared me deeply. Caused me to get out of bed, move to another room and pull out a book to read. I couldn't close my eyes again. That nightmare stuck with me and I realized last night that my fear of it recurring kept me from falling asleep.

Those are classic signs of a problem. I haven't talked to my therapist yet. I actually haven't seen her since shortly after my diagnosis in 2008. Without talking to her (or anyone) I'm going to guess that I am probably dealing with issues of post-traumatic stress and anxiety. Writing will help me in moments like this -- when I need to do something quickly to move me from that scary place to a calm space. But it won't fully fix the problem. So, I'm going to have to do something and fast.

My breathing rate has calmed down, and my heart has stopped racing. So I will resume getting ready. I hope that none of you will think that I'm losing it because I shared this. But if I have to bear the strange looks and hushed giggles of people who think I'm losing it after all that I've been through, rather than continue to have moments of anxiety that feel so real that I think my life may be ending... I'll take the ridicule.

And give myself a chance to push beyond this next step of healing.

~Nic

PS. Have I said lately how much I truly HATE cancer? Well, I do. (sigh)