Anxiety.

Three minutes.

That’s the amount of time I just spent in hysterics. One of my longer episodes. Impressive. Nash and Charlie did their part in calming me down. Nash with the licks; Charlie with the cuddles. I wonder if they know that they are “Emotional Support” dogs. I mean, like not officially, but damn they are good.

What caused this panic attack?

Absolutely nothing and everything at the same time.

The first panic attack I ever had was during my senior year of high school. I was recovering from the shock from the death of a friend (suicide) when I got the news that one of my family members was in the hospital after an attempted suicide.  At the time, I didn’t understand the tightness in my chest combined with my asthma and tears. I assumed that was just the fear of perhaps dealing with another suicide death in a short amount of time. The asthma was weird though, I didn’t normally have attacks when I was upset. But I moved on.

Fast forward a couple of months and I’m headed to college. My dad was in the truck behind me with a majority of my belongings. We were still about an hour away from our destination when I got that feeling again. Tightness in my chest, tears, and asthma. I assumed I was just sad/nervous to be starting this new adventure and leaving my parents a few hours behind, but again, the asthma was a weird addition to these fears.

These episodes continued and each time would feel more powerful than the last.

I’m 28 now. A round of eating disorders, self harm and multiple trips to some therapists and doctors later, I now know I “suffer” from anxiety.

I don’t love the word “suffer” because I don’t feel that I’m suffering. I live a perfectly wonderful life and don’t fall in to the mold of a person with anxiety. I am what the doctors call a person with High Functioning Anxiety.

When I say that “nothing” and “everything” is the cause of my panic attacks, I mean it.

Today is a beautiful day. It’s 10:30 in the morning, a warm 55 degrees outside and I’m on Spring Break. I have just returned from a mini vacation to Arizona to visit my childhood friend, I am still in bed, and my F.A.V.O.R.I.T.E episode of  Friends is playing in the background. Great day, right?

Today is a dark day. It’s 10:30 in the morning, a warm 55 degrees outside and I’m in a forced isolation. I am not sick, but many people out there are. I am doing my part in trying to help slow the spread of the coronavirus, but how long will I be “doing my part”? How many other people are truly doing their part? Will my grandparents and parents make it out of this healthy and alive? Will I? How are my students? Why does my boyfriend still have to go to work? Am I being ungrateful that he has to work when there are others out there who are not getting paid? Am I praying enough? 

Cue anxiety.

And this is day 1 for me.