I am a huge worrier and since the age of 17 have been prone to panic attacks. I can feel them coming, and I still remember the first day I had one.I was at school, as most horror stories begin, and was worried about a math class I was taking. The teacher very clearly hated me, and for a girl who took honors classes and bonded with teachers during class, his hatred was upsetting and confusing. He had been giving me a very undeserved C and had told me that I just failed a recent test, thus lowering my grade to a D. Conveniently, when later confronted by my mother and the principal, my test was nowhere to be found. But, I digress.
I was sitting in another one of my classes and began to sweat. Worry worry worry. I had never gotten a C in my life, much less a D. My college hopes would be ruined. I would have no future. I would end up working at the mall for the rest of my life. Worry worry worry.
I started to feel short of breath and light-headed. I raised my hand and asked to see the school nurse. After sitting in the nurse's office for a few minutes I started breathing too quickly. I was scared and started crying. She was telling me to calm down but I couldn't seem to get enough air into my lungs. I wanted to sob, but there was no air available in the room. She laid me down and called the school cop.
Then my limbs started seizing up. My arms went stiff around me and I couldn't spread my fingers out. They had involuntarily curled into a fist and wouldn't move. My legs were curled under me and I couldn't move them.
The paramedics were called.
I was given an oxygen mask and some sort of injection. My mother was called, and she channeled her terror into anger over my situation with the math teacher, which she knew full well about.
She demanded to see the principal; she threatened legal action if she was ignored. Within a day I was pulled from the math class. That year the math teacher left, due to complaints from the parents of two other students.
I was taken to my doctor immediately after I regained use of my legs. She told me it was a panic attack. No medication, because it wasn't constant or debilitating. I just had to stop worrying.
I hate math to this day.
And now, I have to work constantly to stop worrying. I worry about worrying too much. It disturbs my sleep, gives me stomach cramps and the occasional sobbing fit.
Who knew an internal conversation could create such an issue.
