ENcourage: My story

Posted by Sci470 on April 07, 2008 at 16:02:16:

While I make a living as a writer, truly opening up about myself has never been my strong suit. But here it goes...

Twenty-three years ago, I was a typical 16-year-old kid, (i.e. wannabe musician, varsity soccer player, cheeleader chaser, the whole nine yards).

It was Thanksgiving and I had taken a Sudafed for a bad cold. I was at my cousin's house and we went out to smoke a joint. About 20 minutes after the joint, I was numb from head to toe and in an uncontrollable panic. My aunt, a nurse at the time, gave me a valium. Lights out, attack over....for now.

Th next morning I was back at work selling Christmas trees without a care in the world. About a year later, the attacks started up again. They lasted for the next ten years, wth some brief periods of relief...but not many...

My first breakthrough with panic came right after college graduation. I was working as a teacher at the time and seeing a psychologist to help alleviate the attacks. She suggested to see a psychiatrist and possibly take meds to help along with the CBT. I was desperate for relief and said ok.

The psychiatrist suggested Prozac. I tried it. After little relief, he said to up the dosage. I tried it. But something was happening to me. I got depressed; couldn't sleep; started to have some of the darkest thoughts of life; I didn't recognize my own face in a mirror, and was near suicidal, which if you know anything about me, is JUST NOT ME.

I had a moment of clarity (I called it Grace) as I looked into the mirror one day and realized something had to give. I stopped taking the Prozac, cold turkey. BAD IDEA, sort of.

I went into a three-day emotional tailspin in my bedroom from anger to sadness to rage. (I was 26 years old)

After the third day in my emotional hell, I decided no hell no fear could be as dark was what had been the last ten years and three days of my life. I was going to live my life and damn the torpedoes. The attacks ceased.

About two months later, I jumped in a car and drove cross the country. I never looked back. And for ten years, I was panic/anxiety free. I started boxing, lifting weights, got married, had a son. I became a boat captain and a writer.

My marriage went thorugh some tough times over the last several years. My son is developmentally delayed. Thankfully, my boy is on the right track and my wife and I have reconciled< we bought a new house and have been workng on the marriage for the last two years.

BUT...

Last year (I'm now 38), the attacks that haunted my youth came back. I am once again in therapy to find the path back to the peace I had for more than a decade. And while I am having an attack as I write this, damn the torpedoes! I will get though this again.

For my wife, for my son, and for myself. I will not quit. I am still working full time (and launched a new business, too), travel 100 days a year for my job (I've had attacks in hotels and planes from NY to Australia-never give up, never give in). And I'm still in the gym six days a week-I'm a firm believer in a healthy mind and a healthy body.

There have been many tough days like you, but many good ones, too. Focus on those. I will never give up hope again. I was there once, and it's not the answer. May my humble story help you, and I'm here to listen and share should any of you need it.

To your precious present and for your better tomorrow...You (and I) will all get there...Stay strong, you're not alone...

-Patrick