My Personal Experience with Panic Attacks

It all started when I was at college many years ago. One day when I was joking around with some classmates, I suddenly began to feel very anxious – so anxious that I could hardly speak. What's worse was that I was part way through telling a joke when for no apparent reason I became extremely self-conscious. I was part way through a sentence when I found that I could not continue speaking. I flet that if I was to try to force out some words then I would lose physical control over myself and possibly start crying aloud. My face then started to twitch and spasm uncontrollably. I  began noticing everyone was staring at me with concern, as if "What's wrong with him?". I was very embarrassed and shaken by the experience. I walked away from that thinking, and hoping, that it was some sort of bizarre one-off  experience. Unfortunately, it was just the beginning.

As you might have guessed, the problem got worse. I began avoiding people, except for one-on-one situations with a small number of people who I knew well. My social life died because I started turning down invitations to social events and parties – after which further invitations stopped. I put up with this for a few months until I finally decided to do something about it. I went to the college’s student counseling center that was actually staffed by psychologists.

A psychologist at the center tried to convince me that ‘we all feel anxious from time to time’ and ‘have you tried to explain to people that you’re feeling anxious – they’ll understand’. I tried to explain that making such public declarations of having ‘psychological problems’ isn’t likely to make me socially attractive or win any friends, and will probably have little effect to stop a panic attack – which was happening to me involuntarily. As it turns out, just as I had finished explaining this – I actually had a panic attack right in front of her. The trembling and facial twitches took over me. I could barely utter “See, it’s happening now”. I looked at the floor, to avoid eye contact, and felt rather humiliated. The thought in my head was along the lines “what sort of man am I that I can’t even hold a conversation without some sort of episode?”.

The room was silent, so after a short while I managed to look up at the psychologist. She was just sitting there, quietly observing me. Strangely, this actually felt good – finally, now a professional had observed me and seen first-hand what was affecting me. I was also reassured to see that she didn't react with the usual “What’s wrong with him” look that a typical person in the street would have. Eventually, she said “Hmmm, I see.” She then went on to suggest that some therapy would actually be advisable and even went on to say that it’s more than the student counseling centre could offer but would find a good psychiatrist for me. She did this and arranged for a campus doctor to provide me with a medical referral.

The remainder of my personal story continues at the main article (link below).

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