How I Gave Myself a Panic Attack – A Review

For whatever reason, I’ve been in a mood to write poetry today. I’m going to spare you from this agony, but if any of my lines seem more pedantic than usual, this is why.

When it comes to mental health I’ve been slipping up a lot lately. Which is fine, mostly. I don’t think anything causes it, but it’s strange to have problems I curbed years ago resurface like a drunken memory. It started last week, when I took two showers in the morning. You see, while I was drying off the first time, I was overwhelmed by the thought that the towel I was using was dirtied in some way. As if time had sullied it. So, I put it in the hamper and grabbed a new towel. But at this point, I had already used the first towel, so I was unclean. I got back in the shower and went through the whole routine and then used the new “clean” towel.

All of this felt perfectly rational to me, until it didn’t. I’ve never been a germaphobe. My OCD is generally restricted to obsessive counting, following specific rules, or you know, having my entire day consumed by thinking and rethinking one issue but being too scared to ask for reassurance/encouragement that everything is okay because I’m more interested in not “bothering” the people around me than my own well-being because that’s what my brain does to itself. I experience some of the other symptoms too, but much more rarely. Such as obsessing over safety and having intense visions of violence or aggression in the face of something as banal as a staircase.

The worst thing that comes with these spells is paranoia. The stress is manageable, because I either allow myself the compulsion or find an outlet (writing, reading, running) to distract myself. Sometimes compulsions slip into these activities, when I’m running especially, but ultimately, they’re harmless and just give my mind a small reprieve.

That was until yesterday, when I inexplicably gave myself a panic attack. I had just started my run, I was probably half a mile out, when I started thinking “what should tomorrow’s blog be about.” I had been doing research on OCD, because I realize I kind of dropped the bombshell of “I have it,” and then didn’t do anything after that (I’m sure that blog has been haunting all of your dreams, you’ve been staying up late going “I wonder what weird things Connor counts!” Footsteps mostly).

So. I wanted to write this blog. That made me start thinking about how I’d start it, the shower anecdote seemed fine. Then I started to think about reactions to that, and that’s where things kind of went off the deep end.

I’m not asking for your confirmation or denial of this fact. Because I know it’s bonkers. One of the biggest issues I have with my OCD is that I’m just scared of being stereotyped or like… interrogated about it. I don’t know why this is. But I got in this recursion where I just kept thinking about how people would react. And so, I decided to take my mind off of it, and think about literally anything else.

Before I left, I was reading about this event in a video game I like. So, I thought about that game, and I thought about the five friends I played that game with, and then I thought about how we haven’t played that game in a while, and then that became its own recursive thought pattern in which I, somehow decided that I ruined that game for them for the rest of their life and that I’m basically the worst person on the planet.

At this point I was hyperventilating and on the street that I lived on. I was maybe at three-quarters of a mile at this point, and I wanted more than anything to turn around and walk home. But. I told myself that if I quit, I’m just going to go home and be even more upset, and that the sunset was in twenty minutes, so if I kept this pace I’d get to the top of the hill at the perfect time and get to look at it, and that would make me happy, and that became a recursive thought pattern of like NEEDING to see this sunset at the perfect moment at the top of this specific hill. So, I did some math, and ran at what felt like the perfect pace to get me there at the right time.

At that point, my thoughts became logical and focused, because they had a direction. The thought spiral circled around itself, and somehow that was enough to get me out of it… sort of. I mean, I was still in my head about the whole thing, and still experiencing recursive thoughts, but they were productive thoughts. It was still a prison in my own head, but it was one where I had a job and made some petty cash. Just enough to buy cigarettes and thicker socks for the winter.*

Weird tangential metaphors aside. I kept my stride level, and after escaping a rather strange encounter with a St. Bernard, made it to the top of the hill just at sunset. I watched it for fifteen seconds. Smiled. And ran home.

My head was free, my breathing was just as huffy and puffy as it should be and I was fine. When I got home, my family asked me how my run was, and I told them “it was okay!” I ate two fish tacos, talked to those old friends who I used to play games with and felt good about myself.

My brain does weird things, if that wasn’t clear. I overthink somethings and I definitely overdo just about everything. But, I like to think that this isn’t a problem, it’s just part of who I am. A lot of the things people like about me come from my OCD. One time, a friend listed off their favorite qualities of mine, and all of them were either compulsions or stemmed from obsessions. That made me feel really good about how I handle my issues. Sure. It sucks when a standard run turns into a self-therapy session. And I wouldn’t wish panic attacks on my worst enemy. But, that’s the lot I drew, and it could be way worse.

So, congrats on making it to Wednesday, you’ll hear from me again this Friday. Until then, have a great couple of days!

*I will not pretend to suggest I understand prison economy.