Twenty five years old and clinging onto anyone and everything to stay with me….. I mean stay with me 24 hours a day! I was like a baby, needed care, reassurance, just to hear familiar voice. I was desperate!!!
It had got to the stage where I was having attacks numerous times a day, the amount of times I told my parents ‘I’m dying’ was countless. But I cannot explain it any other way. Quite plain and simple…. You’re dying!
The physical symptoms, the numbness, the shaking, the palpitations, headaches, dizziness, blurred vision (not all at once) there are more too, also the thoughts that tag along with these physical symptoms are so powerful that they take everything out of you and leave you in a helpless mess crying for help and breathless. What would you think? Unless you have experienced it, I don’t think it’s fair to ask but I respect people who try to understand it all. I don’t like separating myself from ‘normal’ people, not one person on this planet is normal, in my opinion. So we shouldn’t say ‘They just don’t understand’, I do not like reading that… it kind of puts them in a ‘They don’t care’ bracket, but they really do!! Honestly.
I try to stay away from the subject if I can (I will explain further on).
After every attack I have ever had, I quietly speak to the skies and thank whoever is up there ‘Thanks for getting me through that, another day alive’ but still, after going through them, you’d think that I’d just tell myself that its ok, embrace it, as the worst that could possibly happen is for me to feint.
This part is so easy to write, but try telling someone that has convinced themselves that they are goners! you literally give up and just wait for it to happen.
It got to a stage. This is pretty hard for me to write this I must admit,
I was 23 I could no longer handle the thought of laying in my room alone at night having these attacks. So decided to sleep on my parents’ bedroom floor for a night or two. cut a long story short ok, it became a fixture I was dependant on these people. Two years later there was the shape the size of a six foot two inch body shaped within their carpet.
Every night more or less I slept on that floor, some good nights, but 90% bad.
I never ever thought of it!! For two fucking years!! How selfish was that? I could have ended their marriage, I was twenty three, sleeping in my parents’ room!
I only realised how much this was effecting them by accident, or I do not know how much longer id have slept there. I was running a bath at about 23:30 one night but had forgotten a towel which was downstairs, as I passed the living room I could hear my mother crying to my father ‘I can’t live like this anymore…’, my heart sank, I knew exactly what my mother was talking about and my father assuring her ‘He will get better, I promise’.
Now to hear that, yeah, hit my like a fucking steam train!!!! I carried on listening, ‘What are we going to do? It’s been two years and he’s still on our floor’ ‘We can’t go anywhere’ etc. Basically I had taken over their lives.
What did I do??? I acted in the worst possible way. I burst in and ranted, it was all about me!
Ranted at my parents who had given me two years of their lives I should never have commanded, what an arsehole. To this day, that is the biggest regret I have.
Instead of ‘thank you so much for caring for me, I love you so much’ I go in and selfishly swear and punch doors. I could not control it, I had come dependant on them and expected pity.
I am actually filling up writing this, firstly because of the way I treated my PARENTS! Also, because if I take into account the love and time they give up for me, not my four siblings, just me, it is phenomenal!!
My father would sometimes, no not sometimes, OFTEN stay up with me all night and then got into work for 5am to do a twelve hour shift and come straight home to me, not my mother, me!
It got pathetic and something had to be done.
I worked on sleeping in my own room for a year, sounds pathetic as my Fiancée and I are teaching our son to do that very same thing right now. Anyways, it finally worked and they got a bit of their lives back. I was still heavily reliant, but they slept together, no crying from the twenty five year old in the corner. They slept. Their carpet was fucked! I don’t think they cared for the carpet though.
So two years of nearly messing up a great marriage and being a selfish bastard…
Six years on, I am in a much better place, for these six years I have avoided the slightest talk of panic/anxiety with my family. As long as they hear my voice on the phone a few times a week and see me often enough, they are happy and think I am done with it.
There is no need for me ever to tell them that I still have attacks, I wet myself on occasions too, still pretty forceful. It will pass… just be patient ey.
I think the message I am trying to put across here is that, even though you are thinking the worst, try to remember that people who do not suffer are new to this. So read this, try to keep your cool and try not to hurt loved ones, it will get better, there is a light I promise, I’m seeing it.
Do not hide away like I did!!!! Read this, talk to me, talk to anyone. There are thousands of blogs, links, etc. social media is massive and I am sure there is something there for you.
I am a bit emotional so will leave this here.
P.S Thank you Mam, thank you Dad, I love you (I have told them in person by the way 🙂
If I am half as good as these two, I know I’m onto a winner.
I hope this helps, wherever you may be in the world.
Take care and good night