When I was around 22 years old, I was on the tube in London one evening when the train got stuck between stations on the dreaded, decrepit Northern Line. I was standing, crammed in with the other commuters amongst their sweaty crotches and armpits, when the train stopped suddenly. The lights went off, and for about two minutes the carriage was in darkness. They flicked back on, and after probably another five minutes, a crackly voice over the tannoy announced ‘blah blah blah power fail blah’. I didn’t hear the words as, by then, my world as I knew it changed as unbeknown to me at the time - this was when I suffered my first proper panic attack. Just writing that down brings back memories of every claustrophobic breath I tried to take. The airless carriage was enough to make anyone feel queasy and uneasy, but at that precise moment, my brain decided to freak, and freak out it did.
Breathless, my heart starting racing quicker than it had ever done before, thudding, jumping in my chest with an irregular beat. I HAD to get out. I assumed I was having a heart attack, and I got really scared that I was going to actually die, of all places, on the tube with a load of strangers 50 meters underground. I started hyperventilating – I was dizzy and needed to get sick. I couldn’t breathe, gasping at the air like a fish out of water - I was in obvious distress. Those around me were beginning to give me sideways furtive glances, some backing away as best they could; others crowding closer, asking me if I was OK - which made me worse as I couldn’t remember how to speak as my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth. I recall trying to push my way out and then I was on the floor, my bemused spectators jumping to their own conclusions as they loomed over me. When the train finally limped into the next station, two kind men took five minutes out of their busy bee lives and sat me on a platform bench until I felt better. Wobbly, and assuming I was coming down with a bug or it was something I had eaten, I somehow got above ground and hopped on a bus home instead.
Weeks went by, until one day I was out and about, when I began to feel really spaced out. Again, I was breathless and could feel irrational fear and panic rise up and grab me by the throat. This time, I was scared, as I didn’t even have an airless tube carriage to blame. My mouth went dry, I started to spin and couldn't breathe properly, and the more I tried to, the more frightened I got. These episodes increased in volume over the following weeks and would come out of the blue. I would lose the ability to walk, knees collapsing underneath, desperate to find somewhere to sit, before white fear crept around my neck, clamping on, hissing in my ear, “you’re gonna die, you’re gonna die”. I would be struck by such an intense terror that I couldn’t move. My world was scary, I couldn’t breathe and the more I struggled with the horror, the worse I felt. I would often vomit or at least feel the need to, my stomach cramping, I would panic about needing the loo. I had no idea what was happening to me. The scariest thing about a panic attack, is that you don’t know it’s a panic attack. And one of the biggest fears for someone who has suffered a panic attack, is the fear of having another panic attack. Being out of control, struck by the terror, with real physical symptoms akin to choking; and a heartbeat so out of control you believe you are having a heart attack; is truly horrific and so very frightening. To the outside observer, someone who is suffering a panic attack can look scary - people just think you are drunk or on drugs and leave you to it. I distinctly remember once over-hearing a woman commenting loud enough to hear, how disgusting it was that some people got so out of it so early in the day, while being comforted by my boyfriend as I sat freaking out and shaking on the floor.
I had blood tests after blood tests, was prodded, scanned and poked, each time hit the same brick wall - the doctors couldn’t find anything ‘wrong’ with me and couldn’t explain these episodes. That was, until one day I was freaking out in the GPs after another set of blood tests came back ‘normal’; when the young new locum who must have read my inconclusive notes, explained to me what I may be experiencing were panic attacks, and I may have something called agoraphobia. Now this was news to me. I thought agoraphobia was the fear of open spaces - the direct antonym to claustrophobia. Nope. Agoraphobia is an anxiety disorder where the person believes their environment is dangerous or unsafe with no easy way to escape and it doesn’t only happen in open spaces - it can happen in indoor spaces, public spaces, up mountains, in shops whether crowded or uncrowded - and the fear of no escape can induce a state of panic. Symptoms may increase over time, and every time a situation is encountered, symptoms can worsen so much so, those suffering will go to great lengths to avoid ever being caught in what their brain perceives to be an ‘unsafe’ place.
No shit Sherlock.
THAT was my lightbulb moment.
The fear of having an attack was coming to dominate my life, so much so I was avoiding places and circumstances where I thought it would happen, the ‘unsafe’ places my brain had defined. I would take a bus or walk rather than get back on that tube; climb twenty flights of steps rather than get into a lift; always kept an eye out for the nearest exit out of a shop; sit on the end seats in a cinema in case I needed to leave, and made sure I knew where every loo was in every shop, pub and on the journey I now walked or cycled to and from work in case I had an attack which would require an urgent visit. It was horrible and stopped me doing things, and eventually I just stopped going out for anything, except necessary journeys and even these would be planned with military precision down to the finest detail. You must remember this was over thirty years ago – before Dr Google, the internet and emails; before mental health was ever openly talked about in public. ‘Panic’ was something that happened to you when you thought you were going to be late for an appointment. I didn’t realise it was actually a ‘thing’ that happened to people. That GP was ahead of his time. He explained in layman terms what happens to the body when it has an overload of adrenaline following a flight or fight moment; how an imbalance of adrenaline in the body could have such crippling consequences, and I was able to slowly understand. With a lot of time, self-help books, learning new breathing and relaxation techniques and an understanding counsellor, I got through that part of my life. I slowly leant to Face the Fear and after about a year from the attack on the tube; I managed to feel OK about getting on the train again, albeit armed with newly learnt coping strategies.
Although I haven’t had such debilitating panic attacks since, I have been in situations where out of the blue I suddenly get an irrational fear; when my panic demon pokes me the chest, unhelpfully pointing out that I’m not by the exit or reminds me how I felt on the tube all those years ago; and the next thing I am feeling the creeping sensation of panic snake up my neck again - and if I’m not quick enough to shake it off - can be back to that crushing terror. Apologies to those behind me in queues where I have been that pale, panting woman backing the wrong way up the gangplank out of the submarine attraction at Chatham Dockyard, abandoning my husband and boys mid tour; or reversing on my hands and knees from a tunnel in a children's play centre.. I once had an attack in a changing room after I squeezed into a dress which was far too small, horrified when it stuck as I tried to take it off. The more I struggled, the more it tangled and the more I panicked. I’m not sure what was worse - the level of panic or the pure embarrassment after the shop assistant had to break her way into the cubicle to rescue me.
Panic, like embarrassment, passes. And that is one of the tricks I have learnt. Panic attacks pass. They just go. Panic is a temporary state of mind. The perception of fear is worse than the panic - the fear, as terrifying as it is, is purely a feeling. My mantra if my guard is down and that demon dares press the P for Panic button? Breathe deeply, breathe slowly and repeat the words ‘This WILL pass’.
©The Real Tilly Fairfax
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