The most horrible of panic attacks

Anxiety can be a bit like alcohol - it can creep up on you unawares and overcome you before you realise it. Such was the case this week, with my anxiety ever increasing as the week of hell progressed, culminating in the most horrible of panic attacks last night.

Yesterday was a quiet day, and we used it to try and de-stress from the week. I made the odd call to organise a couple of things for next week, and gauged what we had to accomplish this next week for the Housing form. There's a lot to put together for it and we've been given a checklist. Most of it looks pretty easy but just takes time. 

I'd been getting up in the morning shaking uncontrollably for days on end, slowly calming myself down as the day started. Yesterday afternoon though, I started shaking like that again over some very small thing that set off the anxiety. Centrelink has sent us a new form for rent assistance for a couple, just a small thing that the real estate agent signs as proof of what we pay in rent, get's refolded into a supplied envelope and sent off in the snail mail. Easy you'd think. Not quite.

So I go into the office and hand the lady at the desk this form to officially sign. She looks me up, looks at the form, then says that David isn't on the lease. I say he's just moved in and I've emailed the agent that he had, and that my daughter had moved out (BTW she wasn't on the lease either as I've always been the only lease holder). The lady ums and ahs, and says she'll have to get the agent to sign it who was out right now. I say that I really need to get it in the mail. Finally she goes, OK if it comes back on me I know where you live (smiling). Thanks so much for that I said.

So I go outside to the letterbox and I'm shaking like a leaf. Can hardly fold the form and seal the envelope, finally get it in the post box. I go home and tell David what's happened, saying "I'm really fucked up with this". This was only the beginning.

Cut to later last night. 

David's in the kitchen making some desert after dinner. I'm watching telly in the loungeroom. I start feeling really uncomfortable. Getting really hot and heart pounding like mad. I lie down on the lounge staring up at the ceiling trying to hold it together. I'm feeling extreme fear and it won't stop. The fear turns to terror. David comes in and comes to help. I have trouble breathing. Try to breath right but it's hard to. The terror continues. David holds my face and yells to look at him and focus. I try but it's so hard. The terror won't stop, like white hot fear. I crumble back onto the lounge. David's with me, holding me, telling me it's OK.

Slowly, slowly..... the panic slows. The terror fades to fear. I dunno how long it's been. I sit there crying to David softly... "Fuck..... what the fuck was that....." over and over. I sit longer and the fear fades too. A sense of well being comes washing through me. Such relief! Such a warm feeling! I say softly over and over.... "I'm safe... I'm safe..."

A bit later I'm lying back on the lounge still recovering, exhausted. I say to David that it's the lack of control that's so scary. It just came like an attack from a predator, with no warning, and took over. 

This is what I'm up against.