I can distinctly remember my first panic attack. I was around 9 years old and had chicken pox. My dad stayed home with me one day. I had a really bad case of chicken pox and my fever was pretty high. I remember laying there feeling like I couldn't breath. My dad came into check on me and I told him that I couldn't breath. He was a little short with me and told me to just sit up and I would be fine. I remember talking to myself so I would feel better. Talking to myself helped. Keeping my thoughts inside of my head was much easier than actually saying the words out loud. I felt like I would be less judged that way.
I used to share a bed with my sister and when she would stay with a friend I would be terrified. There wasn't anything in particular that I feared. There was no bogey monster hiding under my bed nor was there a crazy clown in my closet. I just had this overwhelming fear. I would be so scared that I would crawl on the floor into my parents room and sleep by their bed. I remember being so relieved by the time I made it in their room. All of my panic would go away.
One of the things that helped me overcome my anxiety is my teddy bear. He was my anchor when I had panic attacks. He brought me a great deal of relief. When we would move I always packed Teddy in my suitcase because I couldn't be without him. I slept with him until I was 20. I even slept with him after my oldest son was born. Then my oldest son became my strength when I was in a panic. I still have Teddy.
I am just now coming to realize that my panic attacks and anxiety were present when I was a child. I would want to spend the night with a friend and would be doing fine until it was time to go to sleep then the panic would set in. I would wind up calling my mom to come get me. It was humiliating but the fear was too much for me to deal with. Being in the comfort of my own room was all I could think of. Now when things get to be too much for me I go into my room. I can sit on my bed and be alone for a few minutes then the anxiety lessens. I have darkening curtains over my windows so other than my lamp my bedroom is dark. I find peace in the room being dark. I also find peace and comfort in the rain. There is something so calming about the rain. Most people suffer when it rains but not me. I sleep better and feel happier when it rains. I used to think it was really odd but now I embrace it. Just because it isn't what everyone else deems as normal doesn't mean it isn't normal. Anything that a person finds to bring themselves peace then I think they should consider that normal. No one can judge another person's definition of normal. Nor should others judge people who have a mental illness. The struggle is most def real.
