Not Here

It only lasted 10 minutes; it felt like 10 hours, though somehow only 10 seconds all at the same time. I was having a panic attack. This had happened before, way too many times, in fact, and it would happen again. However, it had never happened in public before, let alone my job. Chick-fil-A is so busy during lunch hour; this probably contributed to the panic attack, but that was probably the worst time and place that it could’ve happened. The thought of how people would react, seeing me in this state, might only make my anxiety worse.

My mind was racing, which probably attributed to how long it felt. My thoughts were short, perhaps shorter than I even remember. I was in a repetitive loop of “not here, not now.” I couldn’t hear anything. The loud noises of my workplace had faded away; the only thing I could hear was my brain. It was yelling at me to get out of that situation as quickly as possible, but I couldn’t move; I was frozen. I was freezing. Why was I cold? It was the dead of summer, and I was standing next to an open window; it had to have been at least 80°F, yet I felt like I had just pulled my hands from a snowbank. I was shaking; I couldn’t control my limbs as I shook with some strange mix of fear and adrenaline. I could feel the tingling, needle-like jabs at my hands. The air felt stagnant on my skin.

People were staring at me; I could feel them watching me. They were probably thinking I was crazy. They were probably wondering what was wrong with me, but I couldn’t speak. My mouth was open; I don’t know if I was trying to speak or trying to breathe, but either way, it wasn’t working. Nothing was going into my lungs, and nothing was coming out of my vocal cords. At this point, I was numb, but not the sensationless kind of numb. The tingling had spread from my hands to the rest of my body, it was starting to creep up my spine, and had ever so slightly begun clouding around my mind.

My thoughts changed at that moment; I was no longer thinking of fleeing, I was thinking of surviving. I felt my knees fail beneath me as I fell to the ground. My hands started clutching at my head as if trying to shield me from their stares, which were falling on me like broken concrete, sharp and heavy. They still don’t know what is happening to me. Why don’t they know? I can’t speak, and now I’m crying.

Someone reached out for me. They grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. Then, I was quickly rushed to the back. The air was no longer stagnant, it ripped past me faster than if I were on a roller coaster. I may as well have been; I felt like I was about to throw up. As I got to the back, my senses lit up. I could feel the ice maker next to me, smell the chicken being fried, see all of the hectic bustlings of my coworkers, trying to keep up with lunch rush.

As my coworker, Tonya, pulled me to the back, I stumbled. I was barely able to catch myself, but she caught me and held me up as we continued forward and made it to the back trash room. My breathing was heavy as she opened the door and pulled me through. I could feel the shaking getting worse, and the crying becoming heavier. My eyes were shut tight at this point as I sunk down to the concrete. I could barely hear the mumblings of Tonya; I’m sure that her words were intelligible to anyone who wasn’t having a panic attack, but the words were lost on me.

I started clutching at my head like the roof was caving in. I don’t know what I was trying to accomplish with this, but I guess it helped calm me down a little bit because I could suddenly hear a little bit of what my coworker was saying. I caught a bit of what she said, “okay” … “water” … “help.” Drinking water seemed like a good idea, so I tried to ask if she could get me some. She quickly left, so I figured what I said made at least some sense. I tried to calm down a little. I took several deep breaths.

The trash room was silent, as my sense of hearing came back to me. My ears started to ring as I could hear the cars pass by. Tonya came back out with a cup of ice water. I started chugging it down to try to cool myself down. As my mind came back to me, I realized what had happened. I had a panic attack at work. As the panic fell, my stress went up. Suddenly my fears weren’t unfounded, I had a reason to be nervous; I had a mental breakdown in the middle of my workplace, where all of my coworkers, customers, and bosses could see. This thought sent me into another downward spiral of anxiety and terror.

For the second time in two minutes, I was panicking. My thoughts turned from “not here, not now,” to suddenly visualizing the entirety of the restaurant laughing at me. The visuals that my mind gave me were vividly horrifying. I could picture my bosses’ angry faces and hearing them tell me to leave before I could embarrass the company even more. Before my thoughts could get worse, I could feel the warm sensation of a hand on my back. The sound of comforting words from Tonya as I sat there gasping for breath. She told me that everything would be okay, that it is reasonable to get stressed sometimes, that I’m human and allowed to have a moment to calm down. I found out later that she is a mother of three, so the soothing, motherly comments were just a part of her nature. Between her calming words and my deep breathing, I was quickly calmed down.

My mind was not, in fact, correct about the response I would receive. I thought that the people who witnessed it would’ve been unsympathetic. Instead, those that had witnessed my panic attack were very reassuring, if not worried, about my anxiety. I was so afraid that I would be looked at as insane or weak. However, those around me only looked at me with kind eyes and understanding.

My thoughts…

On the subject of Not Here, I was working on trying to let you into my mind. What I feel, experience, and go through daily is unique to me. The disease of anxiety, however, is not uncommon. In the case of this narrative, I was trying to communicate just the very surface of what it is like to experience a panic attack. I was essentially trying to portray what I personally experience when I have a panic attack.

You should know that this particular panic attack was not merely brought on by the business of work, but by the generalized anxiety disorder that forces me into a state of complete helplessness regularly. This was not a one-time occurrence. In fact, this was not even the only occurrence that week. It was, however, one of the few panic attacks that I was unable to hide from the general public. While I now know that most people will not react negatively towards my disorder, I do know that it can be a significant inconvenience to the people around me and can change the way that people view me.

I am not one who likes to appear weak, let alone show people my vulnerable side. So, when this particular moment happened, I was utterly terrified of how people would respond. Thankfully they were all kind that time, but I have still been conscientious about hiding my anxiety in public ever since.

When the people around me know about my anxiety disorder, they tend to treat me differently. I knew they would, but I thought they would view me as a nuisance. How they treat me, instead, is much different than I anticipated. They look at me with pity; they see me like a lost child or a homeless veteran. They look at me as someone who they can help and build up their own self-esteem along the way. I don’t need them to sit with me and tell me to breathe when I’m anxious. I am well aware that I am unable to breathe during those situations and am doing my absolute best to allow my body to take in oxygen again. It isn’t as simple as “just breathe.” It takes a lot more effort than they could possibly know, just to keep myself from passing out from a lack of oxygen getting to my brain.

Tonya, my coworker from the story, responded surprisingly well to my panic attack. She gave me the comfort that I needed. She helped me to remember where I was and that I didn’t need to get so upset with myself for something that was out of my control.

I suppose an alternate purpose for this story could be to spread awareness, not only about what having a panic attack is genuinely like, but also about what to say in a situation with someone having a panic attack. First step: don’t tell us to breathe, we are human, we know we need to breathe.