Everyone has a list of ‘firsts’ that they remember, some with great detail, some with less, but the memory is there either way. It could be any number of things. First kiss, first concert, first roller coaster ride, maybe the first time you flew. I have a fun one on my list. First panic attack.

My husband and I were dating at the time. It was a Saturday, and we were at the movie theater. I Can’t remember the movie, but I recall exactly where we were sitting in the theater. Right side, close to the back. He was sitting to my left. It started as a strange feeling, almost like I couldn’t get comfortable. I felt hot suddenly and I started shifting in my seat. He asked if I was okay, and my heart started racing. I told him I was going to go to the restroom and would be back. I remember walking into the theater hallway and taking a deep breath. The lights, the cool air, and the open space hit me, and I started to feel better. I gave myself a few minutes and headed back to the auditorium. Back in my seat though, it started happening again. I ended up closing my eyes and trying to take my mind off of the strange way I was feeling. I thought I must be coming down with something. By the time we left, I felt like myself again. It wasn’t until years later when that episode, along with many others, finally started making sense.

Believe it or not, it is extremely difficult to explain anxiety, or panic attacks to someone that has never experienced it themselves. It may seem easy to read about it, or sympathize with a friend or loved one, but until you go through a lightheaded, heart-racing, difficult to breathe, fight or flight moment, you just don’t truly get it. My husband and I have been together for 25 years and he has been by my side through the absolute worst moments of my life. He knows what it is like after watching me and hearing me detail it, yet I promise, he still doesn’t completely understand because he has never been through it himself. Sometimes, I can manage them on my own, other times I need to take medication, and on the worst ones, the medication barely touches it and I honestly think I am going to die. And that is no joke or exaggeration. If you have been through it, you know what I am talking about.

My anxiety is triggered usually at times when I feel “trapped”. Hair appointments, doctors’ appointments, school carpool lines, stand-still traffic, meetings, and riding in cars with other people. So, pretty much everything in my day-to-day life. Nice, huh? The good news is, I have learned to manage it with a mixture of medication and self-calming measures (all thanks to an amazing therapist). Most people are unaware of my struggle with it, as is the case with so many others. We hide it, treat it (or ignore it) and carry on. Everyone’s triggers are different, and panic attacks can happen at any time, anywhere, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be any of the things I mentioned previously. I have woken up in the middle of the night with them, been home alone watching television and they creep out of nowhere, or worse, they hit when I am doing something that I am looking forward to, and I am completely comfortable and happy. My wedding day was one. This was pretty early in my anxiety onset, so I didn’t stress ahead of time about the ceremony like I would if I were to do it today. I walked up the aisle with my dad, feeling amazing, feeling happy. I kissed him and then stood at the front of the church with my soon-to-be husband. As soon as we turned to our minister, it hit. I remember thinking, oh my God, I am going to have to sit down. I was sweating, my heart was pounding and everything was getting bright. I said a prayer right then and there. “Please God, just let me get through the ceremony.” I took a few deep breaths, focused on everything I could to get my mind off of the fear and panic, and it subsided. I’m still thankful to this day because otherwise, I would have ended up on America’s Funniest Videos (or TikTok if you are too young to know what AFV is) as one of those brides that passes out at her wedding. I laugh about it now, but it was truly terrifying. And I didn’t even realize what it was at the time. I thought it was because I had not eaten much that day, or maybe I locked my knees or any number of things. My fight with anxiety had just recently begun, and I wouldn’t even know it until later.

If you struggle with anxiety and panic disorders, I understand and sympathize with you. It is all-consuming, it is scary, and it sucks. I’m sorry. If you haven’t talked to your doctor or another professional about it, please do. Don’t try to handle it on your own. I tried, and it was awful. I was putting myself into a bubble and avoiding friends and family. I was canceling doctor’s and dentist appointments and putting myself at risk by not keeping up with checkups. I was canceling hair appointments even though I knew, in the long run, getting my hair done would make me feel better (and look better!) I would purposely get in the back of the carpool line and be one of the last to pick my kids up so I wouldn’t get “stuck” in the line and not be able to get out if I panicked (who am I kidding, I still do this. You can’t fix everything). The best thing I ever did was finally confess to my mom what was going on. By talking about it, I found out that she has struggled with the same anxiety most of her adult life, as did my grandfather. She encouraged me to find someone to talk to. It took some time to find the right practice and the right person, but once I did, it was glorious. And I have no problem admitting I have a therapist. It’s great that our society has become more open about admitting we need help, and we no longer hide in the dark trying to solve problems by ourselves. I’m happy to no longer try to do this on my own. Life is hard enough without the curveballs that are thrown. These last few years have been nothing but curveballs, and having someone to meet with and talk to about it all has been a lifesaver.