What the hell are panic attacks?

Living has been a challenge lately. Just being in my own mind really. For the first time I am actually getting along with my body which is simply amazing, but now it is my minds turn to play tricks on me. I am obviously aware of the fact that I am a bit crazy. I love to be able to allow my mind to go wherever it sometimes feel curious to go, and quite often my own mind make me laugh. It has a sense of humour that I appreciate. But god, sometimes I want nothing but to disconnect all of my thought trains.

I wonder how many people that get these panic attacks I’ve been getting lately (due to cutting down my antidepressants?) I wonder how people cope? I see myself as a person who has a lot of self-perspective and I can often distance myself from… myself really. I am used to feel a lot and separate myself from my feelings and be the observer of what is going on inside of me. Lately I’ve found it extremely hard. Lately it has been like someone is standing with a vacuum cleaner and sucking my whole being into it. After I am rushing around as a vacuum cleaner just sucking the joy out of everything that is coming my way. No fucking mercy at all, everything that matters to me and the people around me it sucks up and down the black hole. It doesn’t separate good from bad – because it is a machine with no emotions or awareness.

I actually don’t know what a panic attack really is, but if what I am getting isn’t a panic attack then I don’t know what is. I literally feel as if I cannot move, cannot be still, cannot love, cannot function at all. All I want is for someone to wrap me in those white tops and thigh my hands around myself put me in a car and drive off to neverland. All I want is that tranquilizer gun from Old school (“most powerful tranquilizer on the market”) – someone, something, anything please just put me to sleep!

All metaphors aside, I have to admit that I am so scared when they happen. So scared. All my self-control is gone out the window in those moments. All that is good about, with and from me is nonexistent. Sucked into vacuum space. All my dreams mean nothing, thinking about the future seems completely pointless. And maybe that’s what this vacuum is trying to tell me – that there will be no future if I cannot learn how to live and be happy in the moment. That here and now the future actually means nothing unless this moment at least is worth as much – because this moment is what is going on forever until it is the future from where I am standing now.

I have been focusing so much on where I want to go that I forgot how to enjoy all the small things along the way. I have turned the journey itself into an obstacle my body is trying to break down and overcome – when the journey isn’t anything I should try to overcome. Rather I should try to get into it. My mind is breaking down because the journey is all I’ve got and in one-way or another that needs to be clear to me. Well, I’ve got it now.

I know my tools but then, in the joy-sucking-tornado I don’t know how to use them. I follow my breath, remind myself that we have been though this before and even though it feels like this is going to last forever it wont. I know my tools but then and there I don’t believe in anything other than the pain I’m feeling inside from simply just being me in this world.

So what is triggering them? How can I avoid them? (please if anyone know anything about this I am gladly taking advice, no advice are stupid, send them over!)

I have got a feeling that they come every time I cut down one more day of my pills which happens every second or third week. I always slow down the cutting down process after an episode. I also notice that when someone is trying to reason with me then it seems to fuel the force of the vacuum and instead of helping it is making it worse – turbo mode worse. I cannot listen to anything that isn’t telling me that what I am doing, feeling or being is ok. If someone would tell me otherwise the turbo power kicks in and I feel like I am capable of swallowing the whole universe. I fall and it is scary.

It makes me think about how I would act towards a person in emotional panic pain such as myself. If I was a person who witnessed myself I would start with a firm and long hug and I would tell myself to let it all out, that it is ok and that I can scream and cry and laugh into my arms for as long as I need to. That I am not going anywhere and that the pain is okay. I would encourage everything that feels like it need to come out. Then I would put on some tea, maybe a movie in the background, grab a note pad or a computer to write my heart out, or even a deck of cards to play with. Get some blankets and everything cosy and make a dream out of the place I’m in, wherever that may be. I would tell myself that we can sit here and just be, cry and laugh together for as long as we need to, for as long as it feels hard to leave. I would tell myself that we can be here for a whole week, it doesn’t matter. Because then and there I’ve noticed that trying to escape from the tough feelings only make them worse – it gives them the power, the turbo engine. It is literally like running on quick sand. The only thing that helps is to create a moment of stillness where time doesn’t exist and where everything is allowed except holding back and resist.

Scary times but today I woke up actually wanting to get up. I wanted to do things. I had shit to write, weird movies to make, tea to drink, saunas to sweat in, a house to find and eventually make a home out of. I woke up this morning looking forward to finding a new place to live and make it a place I want to live. Reminded by a thought of my mum and how she, wherever we went turned a place homely – even if it was just for one day she brought ropes, tied them up and hung up sarongs, put up candles and rocks she’d found and collected along the way. She even turned our holiday car into a place where we could live one summer. Inspired by her I am now itching to create a good standing ground and bring it with me wherever I go.

It is interesting how shit work out, because I doubt that I would feel this motivated to move, and get organised, make shit happen and dive into projects if it wasn’t for that rock bottom I was rolling around on a few days back. Should I be grateful? I think so, well I have to be, even though it hurt like absolute hell at the time it seems to have powered me up and brough me closer to home; within in spirit but also in the physical world. So thank you you devilish vacuum, I guess, but please stay the hell away from me for a while.

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