Let's Not Panic

Aah, the familiar feeling that your heart is going to burst right through your chest, the tightness of your trachea feels like you are wearing a turtleneck that is 10 sizes too small, sweat beading up on your brow and all you can hear is a mix of static and a high-pitched squeal…a lovely panic attack. If you have ever had the pleasure of having one in public, the symptoms are amplified tremendously as part of the spiral of maintaining a “normal” outward appearance just intensifies the experience. Worrying that you won’t be able to calm down, that you are going to draw attention to yourself, that you are going to start crying uncontrollably, along with some irrational fears thrown in for good measure to mind-fuck yourself. 

This is the best way I have been able to describe a panic attack, which in writing this, I can feel the changes occur in my body, although I am not experiencing an episode presently, it usually lays dormant, just below the surface, ready to surprise me like a demonic jack-in-the-box.

I have experienced panic attacks for a couple of years. Thankfully, most of the time I am able to control them if I am in public, either through medication or excusing myself for a bit of quiet and isolation. On occasion, they do escalate in places which I cannot effectively escape, such as airports, social event and even family gatherings. When this happens, I feel a sense of numbness wash over me as I try my hardest to maintain an outward appearance of “normal” while inside I am battling like mad, similar to the duck who looks calm and serene on the surface, but just below they are kicking like crazy.

I experienced one the other day, gratefully while I was home. I do not deal with stress very well (even though I took a Stress Management course as an elective for my degree) and have even experienced a panic attack while meditating, but I digress. This most recent one was brought on by my current employment situation, which is of the unemployed variety. I thought I was handling my stress just fine, but I suppose I was mistaken.

I was let go about a month ago from where I was working as a Residential Counselor at a group home for developmentally delayed, physically and verbally aggressive adolescent sex offenders. Not my ideal clientele, but it was a job and in the mental health field. I was the only female staff there, as the others had been removed and placed in different group homes due to some of the client’s behaviors. Placing the clients, who ranged in age from 11-15, in physical restraints was a daily occurrence, which was one reason I had to wear shin guards to work, as they would kick, hit, bite, spit, claw, vomit and call you just about every name you can imagine. The behavior that caused the removal of the other female staff was the tendency for the clients to hump the legs of a female whilst in restraints, at times until “completion.” My employer thought that since I had a military background and a degree in psychology, I would be able to handle working there. They thought wrong, as my inability to remove a child from a tree, whilst he was calling me, “Stupid Bitch, Dirty Cunt, and Filthy Whore,” and throwing sticks in my general direction, proved to be too much for me to handle. 

Daily verbal and physical assaults for barely over minimum wage…make me question the priorities of the workforce.

So, now I am job searching, interviewing, budgeting, and doing all those other responsible “adult” things. I know something will come along, but the stress is sometimes overwhelming, especially when you push it down, into the deep, dark recesses in hopes of forgetting. But lo, our minds have a funny way of reminding us that we are not robots, but rather human beings with thoughts, emotions, and even fears.