One Panic Attack at a Time, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Listen to Podcasts

Though I am a worrier, I am also an optimistic realist, or a realistic optimist. Rather than commiserate on how awful things are, I'd rather focus on the idea that we will all get through this.  However, instead of forcing that idea, let's just deal with the idea of focusing on one moment at a time.

(I'll be honest.  I have never used the word "commiserate" in a sentence, and I had to look it up.)

I have concluded that everything I went through over the past five years with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and health challenges have left me in a better place to help people.  Not financially yet, but I can help people deal with this new experience of living in and with trauma.  At least I can help a little.  I can be there for my friends and family the way they were there for me while I was recovering.  If I can't reassure, maybe I can distract with a joke.  If I can comfort, I will.  If I can commiserate, I will do that too, now that I know how to spell it and what it means.

What we are all experiencing is an unprecedented form of group trauma.  It's unprecedented for many of us living now, that is, not for the country.  This is trauma, but it is not simply a traumatic event, it is a series of connected traumatic experiences that most everyone is going through at the same time.  Our grandparents / great-grandparents adjusted in the first part of the 20th century, and we will adjust now, and no matter what happens or how long it takes, it will get better and we will heal. 

I don't mind being quarantined or self-isolated. In addition to being a realistic optimist or optimistic realist, I am also an introverted extrovert, or an extroverted introvert.  I like being in my apartment with my cats, my caffeine, and my podcasts.  The one thing I do miss is twice-weekly visits with my nieces.  But they're still drawing me pictures and calling me and telling me everything they do at home, so thank goodness there is that.

So, my biggest trigger hasn't been isolation or even money, even though I am job-hunting. My biggest trigger has been the idea of running out of something, or having to go out.  My panic thought process goes a little something like this:

What if I can't get what I need?
What if I don't have enough money?
What if my car won't start again?  

What if I get stuck?  

What if I have an asthma attack while I'm wearing a mask?  

What if I have to go to the ER? 

What I just wrote above was a demonstration on what anxiety can do to our minds, especially in times of trauma.  These fears that may seem irrational in times of normalcy become so big and real that they fill up the room and push us against the wall, and we feel constricted.

This is what you could feel if you suffer from anxiety, trauma, or PTSD. When that happens to me, I talk myself down this way:

1.  I recognize that I am experiencing fear or panic.

As soon as I am able to catch myself, I can back away from the fear before it becomes a panic attack or the rare panic-induced asthma attack. If we think of anxiety as a cloud around us, we can imagine that cloud lifting from us, and standing right in front of us, where we can acknowledge that it exists, it's there, but it is not what we think it is, and it has no power.  Then we can see it dissipate. 

2.  I remind myself that in this moment, I am safe.

When I am on the phone with a client in panic, I say, "Right now, you and I are having a conversation, and we are choosing peace.  In this moment, you are safe."  The power of the present moment is that that moment is all that you have to focus on.  The future is a bunch of moments with our projections of fear.  The past is a bunch of moments with our memories of pain.  But the present is right here, and we are safe.  By choosing to focus on feelings of safety and peace in the present, the future and past do not pile up on us.  

3.  I recognize things around me in the present moment.

My freshly brewed coffee is filling my apartment with fresh-roasted goodness.  The ocean wave meditation recordings that I play are helping me feel relaxed as I write this. The icy-cold bottle of water next to me reminds me that I can drink it as I center myself. 

4.  I take another look at my situation from this new peaceful perspective and reassure myself.

Thanks to my sister dropping off many things at my door, and to the miracle of Giant supermarket, I have everything I need.  I have enough food.  I have enough water.  I have cat food, I have cat prescriptions, I have kitty litter, I have my own prescriptions, I have toilet paper, paper towels, chocolate, and lots and lots and lots of coffee.  If I need something, I will get it.  If I can't get it, I will get help.  If I can't get help, I will wait.  I am safe.

One of the reasons that I love podcasts so much is that you have to be in the moment as you are listening to them.  Whatever they are talking about, you are in the moment; yet you don't have to stop everything and focus, you can just keep doing your thing throughout your day. I found this to be helpful when I was in the hospital, because it kept my mind from wandering and filling with fear.  With television, I have to stop what I'm doing and focus on it to figure what's happening, and violent images and stories can trigger memories from the past or fear about the present. With podcasts I can listen to my favorite thing in the world, which is analyzing the heck out of pop culture in ways that are humorous.  I can also learn things, like did you know that Henry VIII was a really tall guy?  And that Levar Burton has a podcast in which he reads to you like he did on Reading Rainbow when you were a kid?

I can listen and learn and get things done while sipping coffee (and stress eating chocolate chips out of the bag, don't judge. I'm out of cookie dough).

This too shall pass.  Feel your feelings, but know in this moment you are safe.  I am here to talk to or write to or social media to if you need a friend.  We are in this together.