Sometimes I act like I'm drunk when I'm having a panic attack
Yesterday, I had a normal and productive workday. And I had
these grandiose plans for when I got home – to iron my clothes (which have been
crumpled up in a laundry basket for more than a week) and work on the book I’m
writing. Yet, for some reason, when I got home I felt this inexplicable sadness.
I didn’t feel like doing anything. Watching TV felt like a chore, and I didn’t
even feel like eating (and you really know something is wrong with me when I
don’t feel like eating).
I was counting down the hours until it was socially acceptable
to go to bed because that was, honestly, the only thing I felt like doing. So,
around 8:30, I decided to take a bath and then go to bed around 9 (9 is an okay
time to go to bed, right?) But, in the middle of what was supposed to be a calming
bath, I suddenly started sobbing. Full-on hyperventilating.
And I realized…I kind of act like I’m drunk when I’m having
a panic attack.
A panic attack isn’t the fun, life-of-the-party drunk either.
A panic attack is like the girl, crying in the bathroom at a bar, her friends telling
her, “No, texting him is not a good idea!” or “Come on, let’s go home,” while
hoisting her up by her armpits to drag her out.
Usually I’m alone when I have a panic attack…but if you saw
me when I was having one, this is probably what I would be like.
Last night, I sent out a couple long, rambling text messages.
The gist of it being – I feel alone, nobody loves me, hey – why aren’t you
responding, you don’t love me, tell me you love me (yeah, I know, it’s embarrassing).
Also, like some people make “drunk purchases,” I have this
strange tendency to make panic attack purchases. In the midst of tears
streaming down my face, I was on Amazon (I guess as a way to try to calm myself
down). I bought cat litter (practical) and also this burgundy-jeweled ring that
I’ve been eyeing but in my non-panic attack brain, knew it was a waste of
money. Like with drunk purchases, I forgot I did this until I got the message
this morning, “Shipped: Your Amazon package will be delivered Friday.”
After getting out of the bathtub, I took some anxiety
medication and passed out on a wet pillowcase with tears still staining my
cheeks. When I woke up this morning, I literally felt hung over. A panic attack
hangover. I felt emotionally and physically drained, and my head was throbbing.
And my first thought was, “Oh god. What did I do last night?”
I’ve had people tell me that when I have a panic attack, it’s
like I’m a different person. And, that’s the thing: When I wake up the next
morning and my brain is back in logical mode, I can look back and say that I wasn’t
in my right mind. And, like looking back on a night of drinking, I don’t even
feel like the same person.
I think it’s because both alcohol and mental illness affect your
brain.
Stephen Braun, author of Buzz:
The Science and Lore of Alcohol and Caffeine, says, “Alcohol depresses the
behavioral inhibitory centers in the cerebral cortex, making you more likely to
do things, or someone, that you wouldn’t if you were sober.”
Same goes for me when I’m having a panic attack. I do things
I wouldn’t do if I wasn’t having one.
According to Medical
Daily, studies suggest that panic attacks stem from abnormal activity
within the amygdala, a brain region that is the integrative center for
emotions, motivation, fear and aggression.
So it makes sense why alcohol and panic attacks make you act differently. They both affect
regions of your brain. But, unlike alcohol, panic attacks don’t make you feel numb
and they definitely don’t make you feel good. When I’m having a panic attack, I’m
not acting how I’m acting because my inhibitions are weakened, like they are when I'm drunk. I’m acting how I’m
acting because I’m in pain – and I’m doing whatever I can to try and make the
pain go away. Yes, even buy jewelry, apparently.
When I have a panic attack, I get this intense pain in the center
of my chest, like someone is pressing down on top of me, and it’s difficult to
breathe. It feels like the walls are closing in on me. And negative thoughts constantly
run through my brain as if they’re coming from someone else – that I’m an
awful, ugly, worthless person that no one could ever love and that I’m going to die alone.
So if I send a drunk-sounding text message that doesn’t make
sense, that’s my way of screaming out for help. I know you won’t be able to
cure me, and I know it’s not your job to make me feel better. But, when I’m
having a panic attack, I’m doing whatever I can in hopes that maybe, just
maybe, you’ll say something to help me feel better. I’m hoping that you’ll
remind me that there’s nothing wrong with me and that I’m not alone. I’m
hoping, if only for a moment, you'll help me forget about the pain.
You can judge me for what I do or say while drunk. But,
please, whatever I do or say during a panic attack, try not to hold it against
me.
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