Panic Attacks

I’m trying to better understand my afternoon/evening mood crashes since they have been worse than usual here in Germany. They seem like panic attacks, but I don’t have the classic symptoms of a racing heartbeat and trouble breathing. I just feel overwhelmed, cry, and have to lie down. But when I really break down the whole trajectory of these “attacks,” they seem more complicated than that.

They start out by my feeling overwhelmed. I start feeling depressed and lost, like I don’t quite know what to do with myself. At this point, activities come to mind or are suggested to me by my husband. As I think of each activity in turn (going to a cafe, writing something, working on blog photos, organizing my mess of a hard drive, songwriting), my mind struggles to hook in, to wrap around an activity and get started. This is the point where I really feel like I’m having an attack- like an outside force is preventing me from doing what I want to do. My brain cannot latch on to anything, and I find myself saying, ”I can’t do anything right now” or “I can’t go anywhere right now.” I feel paralyzed, yet at the same time have a strong desire to do things. I don’t feel “typically” depressed, listless and apathetic. I very much want to do things. But my brain won’t move. It keeps circling back on itself, keeping me paralyzed.

This scenario becomes incredibly frustrating- this utter helplessness despite my great motivation. And then I start to get mad. I become enraged that I can’t get started on anything; even the thought of each task makes my brain seize up. I feel so angry that I want to punch the wall. I want to break things and scream. At this point I’m already crying, but then the real despair starts. I think of all the times in the past that I’ve been able to do so much. I think of the earlier part of the day when I managed to go to the gym, shower, make breakfast. And it doesn’t make any sense: What’s the problem? How can I have the will and motivation to engage in life and yet can’t get my brain to work right?

After some time thinking about the past and my current failure to achieve anything, I take a Klonopin and lie down. If Matt’s home, he’ll talk me down and rub my feet. The medication kicks in and I feel calm. But after expending so much energy through my “attack,” I’m absolutely exhausted. I’m tired and I don’t care anymore about getting things done. Sometimes I fall asleep. Sometimes I watch YouTube videos. Sometimes I just stare into space and bask in the relief. And then the conflict is over. I don’t do anything and I don’t care.

This whole sequence of events has been happening just about every day lately. Sometimes it starts at 4pm, sometimes 6 or 7. Inevitably, in order to relax on my own, I watch hours of YouTube. Videos where nothing happens, where people clean or declutter or show what they bought on their last shopping trip. Back home in Rhode Island, my favorite time of day- my best hours- were at the cafe. I enjoyed reading or writing and feeling productive. But here, it seems like my best time is going to the gym. It goes like clockwork (knock wood): coffee, get dressed, walk there, work out, walk home, shower, more coffee, breakfast. And then I’m in free fall. I feel overwhelmed at the thought of going to a cafe, so I lie down for a minute. A minute turns into “until Matt gets home.” And by the time he does get home for his break, I’m usually already in a state.

So the hours I’ve spent on YouTube during this trip have been ridiculous. I mean, I watch it first thing in the morning, while I’m doing cardio, while I eat breakfast, and then often, for the rest of the day and night. I’m often fighting the urge to binge. I manage my food so that I don’t binge, spreading out my meals and snacks, always trying to delay eating as long as possible. With this rather dismal schedule, I don’t always get dressed in “daytime clothes.” Sometimes I know it’s hopeless and I go right from gym clothes to the shower to pajamas. If I do get dressed and venture out, I’m always back in 2 hours or less. It seems silly to have even brought so many daytime clothes with me- foolishly optimistic.

Matt tries to cheer me up, saying how we only have a few weeks left and then we’ll be home. But I’m not looking forward to going home to more of the same. To barely getting by and feeling like I’m supposed to be grateful I’m not in the psych ward. To Matt not having work and needing to look for some kind of day job. To the suburbs. I honestly don’t know what to look forward to. I’ll still have to go to the gym and be on a diet and struggle just to take a shower. I’ll still be sick every day.