On July 17, at 4:00 a.m., while sleeping, I was hit with a major, sudden, and unexpected panic attack. I had never had a panic attack, or anything like this before and thought I was having a heart attack. Embarrassingly, I was transported to the ER via an ambulance and spent an entire day being tested and probed for heart problems only to be told, over the phone, by a cardiologist that my heart is healthy and I must've had some anxiety and to just go home and rest. I felt like an idiot. This day began my journey of painful, never ending anxiety. I suffered everyday. Sometimes, all day...and all night. My heart would race and I couldn't catch my breath. My chest was sore and it hurt to breath. Sometimes the pressure in my chest would be so overwhelming I literally couldn't do anything but lay down. I had pulling/straining pains in my upper back. Digestion issues. Headaches. Exhaustion. I became very depressed. Kind people who wanted to help would tell me to find things I enjoy and do them often. It was then that I realized that I didn't enjoy anything anymore. Literally, I didn't enjoy my kids, even when they were being sweet. I didn't enjoy baths, or baking, or makeup, or making friends. We didn't have any close friends here in Atlanta yet. Though our church group is wonderful and I knew I could call several people from our church at anytime and receive help, I didn't want to call them. I didn't want to put forth any kind of effort in any socialization.
During these weeks I would beg my husband, almost on a daily basis it seemed, to give me a Priesthood Blessing before bed. I would read my scriptures and pour my soul out in prayer. "Help thou my unbelief" I would cry as I was sure that my Heavenly Father could heal me and stop this madness and it was just my wavering faith that was in the way. My prayers helped...a little. I would sob, nightly in conversation with God. Eventually exhaustion, and the peace of knowing that my Heavenly Father would take care of me, I would slip into a slumber. Often just to be woken up a few hours later with the pounding of my heart.
We had JUST moved to the Atlanta area and I didn't have a doctor yet. The process of finding a doctor that was approved by my insurance and would still accept new patients was long and stressful. I knew I needed to see a doctor. It took roughly 4 weeks before I was seen. When I finally got in to see someone she was very understanding and really wanted to be very helpful. She suggested that I start taking two prescription medications and one OTC. 1- Zoloft, an antidepressant 2- Xanax, an anxiety med 3- Unisom, a sleep aid.
I have always been weary of taking medications and am not a fan so I told her I would have to do some research and think and pray about these and get back to her.
That very day I heard from a friend whose brother-in-law had just committed suicide weeks after taking a new antidepressant medication. This was a huge red flag for me and I saw it as a sign from God that these pills would not help me. I WANTED to take these pills and I WANTED them to help me. But as time went on, the more I would think about the possibility of them making my situation worse, and not better (which is rare, but does happen) the worse my anxiety would get. This was my answer from God about the antidepressants.
I just never got any sleeping aids, because I don't like the idea of becoming addicted to them and not being able to sleep without them. This is not freedom and health for me. I knew there was another way I could overcome my anxiety. I just didn't know what it was yet.
The Xanax. I did fill a prescription for Xanax. The main purpose I had in doing this was because we were about to fly to Utah to spend two weeks with family and I did not want to be a slave to my anxiety while there. I did not want my anxiety to overtake my time with my family. The Xanax was a "take as needed" drug for me. I used it about 4 or 5 times before I thought I might be pregnant and then didn't want to risk anything, just in case, so I stopped using it even when I wished I could.
When we got back from Utah, I began seeing a therapist weekly. She has helped me immensely and I still see her regularly. I felt for sure that my purpose in seeing a therapist was to uncover some mystery of a "stresser" that was causing all this anxiety and as soon as we could figure out my "trigger" I could fix it and all would be well. I found out that this is not how therapy actually works for most people. Because I didn't have anything to pin point my anxiety to I think that added to my stress. But my therapist let me know that it doesn't matter what it is that stresses us out, what matters is our ability to recognize when our body is starting to spiral out of control and be able to stop the process in it's tracks. On our very first visit she taught me the importance of breathing, breathing correctly and paying attention to my breathing. I began breathing down through my belly and diaphragm and focusing on slowing it down and pushing the breath deeper. This helped me a ton, but I was still battling anxiety almost daily.
Then, one day I stumbled upon this:
It was as if a light turned on inside my soul and I could feel the Holy Ghost telling me inside that this was my answer.
I am going to take a break and finish my story (novel!) at a later time. Just know that it has an incredibly happy ending and if you're curious, visit the web sight HERE for more information about the 40 day meditation challenge.
