My Scary Monster

                                 Source

This is probably one of the most debilitating issues for me to deal with.  I get panic attacks.  Often.

Panic attacks are random.  They are REAL.  The worse part, they scare the hell out of me.

"Panic attacks may be symptoms of an anxiety disorder. These attacks are a serious health problem in the U.S. At least 20% of adult Americans, or about 60 million people, will suffer from panic attacks at some point in their lives. About 1.7% of adult Americans, or about 3 million people, will have full-blown panic disorder at some time in their lives, twice as often for women than men." Source

This past weekend I had a more serious one happen to me.

We were having lunch at my in law's when out of nowhere I began to feel the room closing in on me, it was becoming increasingly difficult for me to breathe, my heart was racing, my hands were shaking and I felt nauseated.

I was afraid I was about to throw up at the lunch table.  Goodness, that would've been a disaster!

I tried, I tried really hard to hide it but I couldn't.  I had to get up from the lunch table and walk to a back room with my husband.

He sat with me.  He held my trembling hands.  He tried to make me laugh, you know, to get me to think of something else but no, it didn't work.  I began to slowly inch into hyperventilation and then started to bawl like a two year old.

It was awful.

I kept apologizing to my husband.  He told me that I was silly to apologize.  I didn't believe him because I was so ashamed of my momentary condition.  But I'm so grateful he's always here for me during my 'crawling' moments.

I was out of control.  Desperate.  Suffocating.  Scared.

It lasted about fifteen minutes.


For as long as I could remember I've experienced symptoms of anxiety, panic and depression (starting around age 3).

My depression was ignited with the temporary abandonment by my mother.
I remember crying a lot for her to come back.

I later experienced PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) at age four.
It was after a man my mother was dating pointed the barrel of a gun to my left temple and threatened to kill me in front of her.  I believe he must've shot the gun because I can recall bits and pieces of that day.  I vividly remember the cold gun to my head and later the loud ringing sound in my ears while I was crying hysterically in my mother's lap.  Whatever happened in between, I blocked out.

At around age six I began to experience anxiety from the sexual molestation.

I've seen therapists and psychologists before.  I've been diagnosed but never medicated.

I'm a believer in alternative medicine, i.e., Chiropractic and/or auricular therapy.  Since my darling husband is a Chiropractor, I get treated here at home.  Thankfully.  

I'd like to exhaust all of my alternative possibilities before I attempt anything else but I am open to other alternatives, if need be.

The pain of all this is the hardest.  I try my very best to stay positive.  Sometimes I falter.

I'm not perfect.  

Still, I continue to look for the beauty and magical moments this life has to offer because all these moments are precious and I know that I matter to many...

This is my scary monster but I will not let it eat me up.

Crawling

'How's your mind today?' DH asks me.

'Fine.' I say

'Anything new? Different?' He continues.

'No.' I respond.

He looks at me knowing exactly what I don't want to say.  He knows that I'm trying to stand up straight and not falter.  He knows that I am simply trying to avoid the anxiety that takes over like a swarm of bees.

'I need some water.' I say to him.

I can no longer stand there, in the kitchen, in front of him because my breathing becomes shallow and I become slightly dizzy.  The cadence of his voice is soft and gentle but the panic attack that is happening to me forces me crawling away to gather the smallest inhale.

'Okay, I'll bring you the water.' He says.

I'm sitting at the couch trying to gather myself but I cannot.  I cannot breathe freely.  I cannot hear clearly. I cannot focus or feel or sustain my erratic breathing.

'Thank you.' I say as he hands over the water.

I drink.

I wait.

Slowly, the panic subsides.  Slowly the anxiety dissipates.  Slowly my breathing changes.

Then come the bursting tears.  The tears are accompanied by sobs.  The pain of it all.
The helpless emotion of feeling suffocated.

'Nobody knows this side of you.' He says.

'I'm not sure.  Why?' I ask.

'Anyone that sees you only sees the strength about you, what you exude.  You carry yourself in a certain way.  I don't think that anyone would imagine you like this.'  He says.

'This is the raw me, though.' I say.

Sometimes the crawling is all I can do...

Mamas get depressed but love shines

September 2005 (Sabrina was 20 months old and Luna was 3 days old).  

The look of postpartum depression here... 

In early 2007 I was feeling very depressed.  I had been struggling to keep myself 'together' from the time that my second daughter was born back in 2005.  It was hard.  The biggest challenge for me was having the right support.  I thank my mother in law, Magda, for being the one enormous help (aside from my amazing husband) to me during the first weeks of Luna's life.  I remember the feeling of being suffocated by my own emotions and struggles and inner conflicts.

I wrote this (below) to myself one afternoon.  I remember sitting at my desk top while my two babies napped in their room.  I opened up to myself.  I needed to feel better and wanted to feel validated inside.  This is what came of it.

My personal thoughts about myself…   

 March 22, 2007

'I feel compelled to share this personal view and intimate experience of myself as a mother.  

I am a mother whom tries her hardest to do the very best for my children but there are also many occasions that I drop the ball and experience moments that I would I like to hide away from. I am a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister and a friend and would not want anything more than to be able to peel the layers of embarrassment, shame and judgment off of myself when I feel that I have let myself down or more so, my children.  

I have highs and lows, happy moments and sad moments, calm moments and angry moments, I am real, and I am a woman.  I was a woman before I became married, I was a woman before I bore my amazing children and I will continue to be a woman.   I try to take in deep breaths and attempt to regain my center within the deepest parts of my core when I feel that I have drifted off.  Women are powerful beings.  Sometimes I feel that my power is lost...

I want to be the very best mother to my daughters but I know that there is no such thing as perfect.  I become angry with myself when I catch a glimpse of the mean mommy who yells at her daughters to get them to cooperate, or ignores their cries to get my attention, or constantly says “just one more minute” when I really mean thirty minutes.  

I beat myself up inside when I cannot be compassionate about the little girl inside of 'me' that wanted her mommy’s attention. Therefore I expect myself to be a wonder mom to my daughters.  I need to care for my 'self' on the inside to be happy on the outside and this is difficult.  Motherhood is a journey to take a look at yourself in ways you never dreamed you would or could.  It scares me.  

I am grateful to be blessed with motherhood.  I carry a pain that sits with me even when I don’t want it around and mothering my daughters forces me to look it straight in the eye and be with it, acknowledge it, and let it go.  Everyday I am given a choice, either to live for tomorrow or live in the now.  I try to live in the now and by doing this I simply enjoy the act of my daughter Sabrina caressing my hair with her gentle touch or feeling Luna’s warm breath on my breast while she nurses and sweetly looks up at me. These small moments lower me back to the ground when I have drifted off and remind me that I am alive.  I am a person with a beating heart and my wounds do not define me.  I am not perfect and I am not a wonder mom but I am a woman and a mother and I do the best that I can and I am okay with that.'

When I read this I'm siphoned back to that very moment of fear and angst and pain and love that motherhood has brought me.  I am reminded to be kind to myself.  I am reminded to love myself even more.  I am reminded to be compassionate, empathetic, grateful and aware of my mothering self.  I am reminded that no matter how daunting a moment can feel like, it will be okay.  Motherhood is not a straight, clear and narrow road.  There are many winding roads, rocks along the way, potholes, debris and stormy weather to overcome.  Motherhood is an opportunity for me to feel through my ever winding emotions and immense love for my daughters.  

Motherhood has given me the gift to heal, to become compassionate and to love the soul that resides in this skin even when there are uneasy moments.  

My sweet baby girls and me on Mother's Day in 2006