Panic Attacks

What a Panic Attack is like for me as someone on the Autism Spectrum.

I want you to imagine the most terrified you've ever felt. Maybe at a haunted house? Seeing a large spider? Losing your cellphone? Whatever it is, remember that feeling, how did you feel? Embrace that feeling; now triple it.

I had a Panic Attack last week. I honestly can't remember the last time I had one; I think last year? Of course there was a time I used to have them everyday; I don't like to talk about those times. But I'm better now.

It was a high anxiety day; a lot of customers (which means crowds and noise), a busy Holiday, and a lot of things to get accomplished in a short amount of time. I also have anxiety working with a coworker (which I'm working through,slowly).

On this day I already had two incidents when my anxiety got too high and I had to get talked down. I'm getting better at realising my limits, and not getting embarrassed for asking for help. (Which leads to an ongoing joke of fake over exaggeration when I do. Humour makes things easier)

For me, a Panic Attack comes from out of the blue. There is no cause for it. If I'm stressed out or have high anxiety, my tolerance level goes down and I'm more prone to them.

So what happened?

I was on my lunch break, eating lunch. Listening to music on my noise-cancelling headphones, and reading a favourite book. Just trying to stay grounded. When all of the sudden I get that oh so familiar punch in the gut anxiety.

Fudge. I think, (yes I say Fudge, I don't swear.)

I know I only have a few minutes before I go into complete panic mood. So I shoot a text asking for help to Hannah (my department Boss). I know it's a long shot, as we aren't supposed to use our phones in the department, but it's all I could do.

At this time I couldn't speak anymore.

I look at the offices, trying to find someone; but no one is there.

I contemplate going downstairs to find someone, but I don't want to risk falling down the stairs.

2 minutes after I felt the punch, I'm done. My legs are jelly, and I collapse on the floor against the wall.

My hands are clenched to my headphones, trying to focus on the music to get through the panic. Although Linkin Park’s lyrics “Stuck in my head again, feels like I never leave this place, there's no escape…” However accurate in the situation, is not helping.

I'm rocking back and forth, my vision is blurry even though I'm wearing my glasses. My heart is pounding, and breathing shallow. I'm shaking and tense. I feel out of control.

There's only one thought in my head:

Don't pass out

For most people, a Panic Attack lasts a few minutes and then passes. For me, it just gets worse and worse, until my body can't handle it anymore and I lose consciousness for a few minutes. Like a computer restarting. It's been six years since I last passed out, but it's still vividly in my mind. My doctor’s believe this to be due to my Autism, making my anxiety different than the typical kind.

During a Panic Attack I don't get racing thoughts. I don't have the thoughts of I'm going to die, or I'm having a heart attack that others commonly speak of.  For me it's like getting sucked into a black hole; falling deeper and deeper inside of my head. I need help, I need someone to toss me a rope and help pull me out of my head.

Feet pass by, and stop. Someone bends down and rubs my shoulder. They could have said something but I can't hear anything. They leave.

More feet pass by, people going on break or returning to work.

Someone touches my knee and I turn to see their hand, I don't know who it is. I can't look up.

Time has become meaningless, I don't know how long has passed, minutes? Seconds?

Someone comes over and bends down. Then moves down onto my vision, it's Hannah. She grabs my hands, and pulls them down to my knees, holding them tight as I shake.

She's saying something, I see her lips moving, but I can't hear her, I can only hear the music (Three Days Grace now).

My hands are being firmly held down, so using my shoulder, I ungracefully, knock my headphones off (and earplugs in the process).

I'm bombarded by the sounds around me. I hear the beeping of the cashiers downstairs, someone typing on a computer, people talking in the break room, doors opening and closing. But I try to focus on just Hannah's calm voice. “Breathe”, she says, “take a deep breath.”

I inhale, and exhale.

“Again”

I repeat this. It's hard to imagine how difficult breathing is in a time like this. Something you take for granted, right now is nearly impossible task.

“Relax” she says. “Put your shoulders down”

My shoulders are hunched forward, and I fight to put them down.

“Good, lean against the wall, relax.”

“Can you nod yes or no?”

I nod my head jaggedly.

“Yes.”She says, “and can you do No?”

I shake my head slowly.

“Where's your Mom? Is she at home?”

I don't know. She was at my Aunts this morning. I don't know if she's home yet.

But I can't express this with my limited conversation tools, so I just stare.

“Look at me,” she says.

I look up at her mouth.

“Higher” she says.

An announcement blares through the intercom. I spin my head towards it.

My hands pull up, stimming my fingers.

“Do you want your headphones?”

I shake my head, no.

No. I won't be able to hear anything.

“Hands down,” she says, grabbing my one hand and pulling it to my knee. I copy with my other hand by myself. “Flat,” she says and I unclunch my fingers.

I know a lot of people consider stimming a positive thing. Something that helps with anxiety. For me, there's a fine line. There's stimming that helps me regulate; but then there's also stimming that pulls me deeper into my own world. Stopping it pulls me out into reality. There's a fine line, and somehow Hannah knows this.

“Did you eat your lunch?” she asks.

I pause, and nod.

“Don't tell me what you think I want to hear. Did you eat your lunch?”

I shake my head, no.

“Why not? Nauseous?”

I nod.

“Do you want some water?”

I nod, and she calls to someone who hands her a water bottle. She opens it and passes it to me. Holding my hand steady.

“I'm getting out of the splash zone,” someone says.

Hannah moves my phone and book out of the way for safety.

“Don't get me wet,” she says, letting go of my hand.

I bring the water to my mouth, spilling less than I thought.

The coldness is refreshing. Calming.

I try to put the lid on, spilling more water in the process. Hannah grabs it and closes it for me.

“Do you want me to call your Mom?” she asks.

I shake my head. No.

“It’s a bad day today. You can't catch it.”

I shake my head. No.

“If you don't start talking I'm going to have to call your Mom.”

Fudge.

“Hands down,” she says.

I hadn't realized they were up again. I push them down clutching my knees.

“Look at me.”

I jerk my head up.

“There we go,” she smiles.

I keep my head up.

“You would have normally looked away by now, good job.” She pauses and looks at my gaze, the way we're angled her eyes are right beside a wall. “You're looking at the wall aren't you?”

I nod. She smirks.

I open my mouth, and close it again. Trying to say something.

“Take a minute. Find your words”

I open my mouth again, and close it. Moving my lips around trying to shape words.

It feels like someone has ripped out my vocal chords. I have the words, they won't come out. I raise my one hand up to my ear and back down. I move my fingers around. Getting agitated nothing is coming out.

“Take a breath,” Hannah says, pushing my hand back down.

I breathe in and out.

“Again, deeper. I want to feel it.”

I breathe deeper and out.

“Find your words”

“Nnnnnn”  I raise my hand up again, and down. “Nnnnn” The sound is coming but not the words. “Nnnnnnnnno”

“No?” Hannah asks.

“No.” I echo.

“No what?”

“Nnno Mmmmum.”

“No Mom?”

“No Mum.” I echo.

“I really think we should call your Mom.”

“No Mum.” I repeat, “No Mum.”

A voice comes from the office. It's the store boss. “What was that?” she asks, “Did he say yes to call his Mom?”

Hannah replies, “No. He said No Mom.”

“No Mum.” I repeat, “No.”

“Can you say something other than No?”

I pause thinking of something to say. I forgot all the words in my vocabulary.

“Say I'm the best,” she smirks.

“You. You're the,” I start unsteadily, before finding my voice, “You're the worst.” I say.

And they both start laughing.

“What's going on in your head. What are you thinking about?”

“My- my foot’s asleep.”

“Yeah, well my *butt’s asleep.” (* insert swear word here. Unlike me, Hannah does swear. Quite a lot actually).

I pick up my foot, and shake it around trying to wake it up.

“I have your Mom on speed dial. I can call her.”

“No Mum.” I say, “Don't want. Don't want to go home.”

“This is the third incident today, you just can't catch it.”

“Second,” I say holding up two fingers. “Second.”

“Third”

“No, Second.”

“Office, Alley, here,” she says referring to the two times I needed talked down from high anxiety levels.

“Three.” I say. “Three times”

“You can go home. I don't want your anxiety to get too much that you won't come back.”

“I'm fine.”

“You're fine?”

“Yup. I'm fine.”

Have we noticed a recurring theme of stubbornness here?

I move to get up.

“Sit down,” Hannah says, “Where do you think you're going?”

“I have boxes to put away.”

“How many?”

“Two”

“And when do you have to have them done by?”

“5”

“We have lots of time. Sit down. If you calm down I'll think about letting you go back to work. But you have to talk more.”

I lean against the wall again.

The panic has subsided. But the anxiety is still there. I grab another drink of water.

My hand had gone up again, stimming.

Hannah nudges it down and I put it on my knee.

She moves her head into my view, forcing me to make eye contact; which I hold for a few seconds and then break away.

“There we go,” Hannah says.

She grabs my book and moves it out of the way for her to sit in a different position.

“There's an error,” I say.

“Error?”

“In the book. Page 53.” I grab the book and flip to the Page, “see it's says 1 wand here, and 1 wand again at the end. A hardcover first edition sold for £20 000 with this error.”

“Really? How much is this one worth?”

“Maybe two bucks. I've had it since I was 6. And it's yellow. And ripped. It's my reading copy. I have the hardcover and the illustrated edition on my shelf.”

“Of course you have more than one copy.”

“And I need Novemeber 17th off. The new Fantastic Beasts is coming out. The Crimes of Grindelwald. I think there will be a midnight premier and I want to go.”

“How do you know what you're doing in November? I don't know what I'm doing tomorrow.”

“I like to plan.”

Insert another 20 minutes of one sided rambling and fact listing on favourite topics such as Harry Potter and Disney; which then lead to an actual conversation with a give and take. Eventual I ask.

“Can I go back to work now?”

“I don't know,” Hannah, says. “Stand up, I'm going to do a sobriety test.”

“I'm going to fail then because I can't stand on one foot.” I say standing up.

“Are you good?”

“I'm good.”

“Don't lie to me. Look at me and say it.”

I look in her eyes and say “I'm good” before looking away.

She pauses for a moment, I don't know if she was thinking, or reading my mind. (I honestly swear she is psychic). Until she says, “okay.”

“So I can go back to work?” I confirm.

“Yes.”

The last few hours of work fly by. I feel embarrassed and ashamed. I wasted company time, I wasted Hannah’s time. I'm frustrated and angry with myself for not being able to control it. Then I remember you can't control a Panic attack; so I get angry that I couldn't control my high anxiety earlier in the day.

Leaving to go home I pass by Hannah, “Thank you,” I say.

“Pain in my *butt” (insert swear word here) she replies.

I think it's an Autism thing; but I don't know how to show appreciation. How many times can you say thank you to someone before it gets weird? What else can I say? Thank you for helping me deal with my issues and not firing me? Thank you for caring about me as a person and not just an employee? I wish I knew if there something I can do or say that would show how thankful I am. The concept eludes me.