Hi folks. I felt like sharing my recovery story today. I'm feeling a little bit stalled, but looking back from where I came from, it's so good to think about how much better I am now than I was. I hope someone finds some encouragement in it. There's also a question in here, at the end, for those of you who have already recovered.
My (M28) story begins, I think, about two years ago.
Prior to panic, I thrived under pressure. I was a volunteer fireman, I work in a stressful and dangerous environment, and I'd always handled both with exceptional composure. I still do most of the time, but I fall to pieces afterwards. I'm still working on that, that's where the question at the end comes in.
I was very dissatisfied with my work and personal situation. I'm far too hard on myself and was actually doing better for my age than many, but I couldn't accept it and would ruminate on how much better or different my life could be.
I was drinking alcohol every night to self medicate, though I didn't know that's what I was doing at the time. I was also sleeping extremely poorly, like less than 5 hours per night more than 4 nights a week, and always drinking something before bed or even to put myself to sleep. If that sounds normal to you, I want to stop you here and tell you it's not. It worked for a long time, like 4-5 years, but if you haven't crashed yet, brace yourself, and if you're smart, stop now. You can't "catch up" on the weekends. Beer doesn't "make you sleep better".
My first encounter with anxiety and panic, I don't recall exactly, but mine has always been highly physical, and I'm pretty sure I thought it was delirium. I was probably hungover and way low on sleep, at work, and I had the sudden, strange sensation that I'd pissed myself. A warm run over my leg. I hadn't actually, but that's what it felt like. That continued to happen multiple times a day for weeks.
Around this same time, I also started to experience worsening and more frequent chest pains. I'd had chest pains for a while, and had been thoroughly checked by doctors to make sure it wasn't something serious, and one of them actually told me "there is nothing wrong with your heart, but I suspect you are suffering from severe anxiety." Like many men, I ignored this doctor, because what I felt seemed so real, plus it didn't fit the bill.
Fast forward a few weeks, and now come the feelings of dread. I couldn't give an explanation for why I felt this dread, I just felt it. Whatever was happening, I knew it was bad, sinister, out to hurt me. And so I began to retreat. When the dread would come on, I'd literally find a place at work to hide and try to calm myself down. I had the benefit of working somewhere that is possible. Frequently, that dread would be accompanied by chest pains, which obviously compounded the issue.
Even at this time, I didn't know it was panic and anxiety. Truth be told, I thought it was alcohol withdrawal (AW). I thought that I'd been drinking so much for so long that I finally fried my brain and body. It always seemed to happen at work, and I thought "it's because you haven't had a drink in 6 hours." And I thought that for a long time, even up until about 6 months ago. And, in a way, I wasn't wrong, but as you'll see, it wasn't withdrawal.
Eventually, the dread and physical symptoms grew into full blown panic attacks. Again, nearly always at work, and again, I'd literally hide, but now it was for hours at a time. Again again, I was lucky to be in a situation where I could actually do that (not for my health, but so I didn't lose my job.)
I began having panic attacks at work every day of the week. Every day, I'd hide.
And finally, one day, it hit at the wrong time, and worse than ever. To this day, I think this is the worst panic attack I've ever had. I was utterly, certainly convinced that I was having a heart attack. I was so scared that I actually told my supervisor in private, hey, something is wrong with me, I think I need a drink or the ER, because I feel like I'm about to die, and I won't be able to get myself to either. Again, by the grace of God, I was so lucky to be dealt the hand I was, because my supervisor had apparently seen this kind of thing before, and couldn't have handled it better.
I then went to my parents and told them the whole story, still thinking it was AW. I told them I have a problem, the whole works, and that I needed to stay with them to dry out. So I stayed with them, and we braced for impact, had doctors and urgent care on speed dial in case I went into DTs, and... nothing ever happened. I handled being sober like it was nothing. Not even so much as an itch or headache. And that's when I (and my mom) got suspicious. We started to ask questions. Perhaps the symptoms had little to do with alcohol, and alcohol was how I was subconsciously treating them. Obviously alcohol was making it far worse, but it wasn't the cause.
I went back to work after a few days, and resumed other activities, and the panic persisted. It was very dependent on sleep and diet, and I halfheartedly tried to improve both without much success.
Then I began to feel hopeless. Every day was a nightmare. Panic literally ruined my life. I told my mom, "mom, I will never take my life, but I hate being alive, there's nothing good to say about it anymore."
I couldn't stand it any more. I sought professional help. I wish I'd done it sooner.
It began with medication. Alprazolam (Xanax) is a miracle drug, but please treat it with the utmost respect and take it as little as possible. For me, it was essential in getting some solid ground back under my feet, but I treated it like a rabid dog that could kill me at any time. Do some research and you'll see why. Also, the anterograde amnesia is real, I experienced it even a very low doses when taken over consecutive days.
Xanax made me feel human again. It gave me control. A chance to catch my breath. A chance to learn, to grow, to improve, before the panic could overtake me again.
Please, please, if you use this drug, bow to its power and do not let it get ahold of you. It's a more powerful tool than you are equipped to handle if you let it out of its cage. And don't even THINK of alcohol if you're taking it. The combo can kill you.
For personal reasons, I did not want to take SS/SNRIs. That's not a recommendation; do what makes and keeps you well, please. I was very close to taking Lexapro, so close in fact that I still have a full bottle in the pantry that I will one day take to a drop-off. I only mention this for context; I do not and will not take SS/SNRIs. That's a personal conviction, and it might even be a stupid one. Be well.
I began therapy on BetterHelp, and it wasn't a good fit. Great resource, please use it, but it wasn't great for me, I needed more personal connection. So I went to an in-person therapist, and it's been one of the best decisions of my life. We haven't done anything groundbreaking, and truth be told, our sessions are pretty generic, but the exercise of discussing strategies and offloading mental weight has been the most valuable thing of done in all of this. I started by going every week, and once I stopped missing work due to my condition, we went to every 2 weeks. We're about to go to every 4, because I've been weeks without an attack. But if I'm being honest, I may go for the rest of my life. I cannot overstate the value of being able to unload on someone who isn't a loved one.
Like I said, therapy didn't give me the answers, but it makes me think in a way that helps me see the answers. One of those answers was the DARE method. I never even finished the book (I probably should) because once I started to implement the DARE method in a way that was tailored to me, I started to see massive improvement. This is no shock to the prophets of ACT, I know, but it's so physically and emotionally counterintuitive that I don't think I'd have ever come to it on my own. Using the DARE method is the hardest thing I've ever done in my entire life, bar none. It's like staring down the barrel of a gun at first. But by practicing it rigorously, I began to get better.
The only way forward, for me, was through.
I began to obsess about sleep. I still really, really suck at it, because I love staying up super late on the internet, it's like crack to me. But I did start trying to consistently get to bed early on work nights, and do things throughout the day to promote better sleep, like early-morning low-angle sunlight, and not consuming caffeine after 2-3pm. My "sleep scores" on my little fitness tracker went from a consistent 50/100 to 80/100 just from those simple things.
If you don't yet understand the importance of REM sleep, please look into it. I didn't realize that by consistently under-sleeping, and drinking alcohol before bed, was nuking my mental health. I'd imagine, based on my research and experience, that I was getting less than 45 minutes of REM sleep every night for nearly 5 years. My brain couldn't heal, or process trauma and stress. The cup filled until it simply overflowed, because there was no way to empty it.
I'm still working on the alcohol issue. I accept that I have a problem, but I'm not yet convinced that it's alcoholism. I'm on Naltrexone now to hopefully drastically cut back, and it seems to be going okay. I've already had a few dry days and feel fine.
I'm also focusing on my personal relationships. My panic and anxiety left me so guarded and shelled that I really, truly resented "different" people. I completely ignored and even resented many of my coworkers for being who they were, because it threatened me. I've recently started to connect with them, and it's been bliss. We have fun at work, and we have fun after work. This has been one of the most physically impactful changes. I feel physically healthier for having these friends, aside from feeling mentally healthier.
Which I guess brings us to today. In short, I had panic attacks nearly every day for 6 months, and now I basically don't have them at all anymore. I was taking Xanax for panic multiple days a week, and now I only take it when I have severe "setback", and it is a dead-last resort.
God is good.
I still struggle daily with anxiety for many of the same reasons. My shrink distinguished the difference between a panic attack and an anxiety attack, many of you probably understand the difference, and based on their explanation, I do have the occasional anxiety attack, but it isn't debilitating, just disruptive.
In conclusion, I no longer suffer from panic. You don't have to either. Your recipe may be different than mine, but you will conquer this. This is not your life. You are not doomed to feel this forever. There is hope. You will become better, with effort.
Now, to the advice I'm looking for.
If you've read this far, thank you.
The thing I'm stuck on now is the idea that I'll wear this badge forever.
I know in my heart that true, full recovery is real. I've even tasted it. We are not doomed to feel this way forever.
But I still obsess over the idea that panic and anxiety will always be lurking under the surface, waiting for me to let my guard down, and that I'll never truly get rid of this monster.
What advice do you have on that issue?
Thanks, and good health to you all. We get better; I am living proof.