Be Anxious for Nothing... Unless you've got psychological problems 04/24/2004

I think I was 19 when I had my first panic attack. I was in class, Acting Fundamentals, and something started to feel wrong. Very wrong.
I'm not sure how to describe what was happening. I guess it's similar to Chinese water torture, where, drop by drop, you begin to go crazy.

It starts out like an itch you don't know how to scratch. Then, it begins to build, slowly. First a nudge, then a poke, then a prod, and you can't escape.
At that point you realize something is really going wrong. But you aren't sure what. You look for reasons or excuses, but you don't see anything that needs fixing.

The first time it happened, in my acting class, people slowly began to realize I wasn't paying attention as the banging of my head against the back wall grew louder and louder.
by the time someone asked the teacher for help, I was stuck full-blown in it.

For the next couple of years, my panic attacks hit me pretty constantly, with one stretch of time where I was getting an attack --I called them episodes-- at least once per week.
It didn't help none that I was battling depression at the time neither.

Psychiatrists analyzed me, doctors gave me pills, and none of it helped. Though I'll admit that the tranquilizers they gave me did wonders... it would turn me into a puddle midway through an episode.
Of course, the great thing about my episodes is that they pulled some pretty stellar poetry outta me, though I'm pretty sure I'd be willing to trade all that in.
They've been happening with less and less frequency, lately, which is nice. My last episode was back in October or November.

Until last night.