A couple of years ago, I snapped a picture of myself in a sushi restaurant bathroom. It’s a photo I’ve never shared with anyone. At first glance, it may seem like a simple image of a tired woman approaching 40, but for me, it represented a moment of courage and self-care during a panic attack.
Often, my panic attacks don’t have a clear trigger. That particular morning, I might have argued with my sister, been woken up too early by my toddler, and carried worries about my partner’s job struggles. In reality, everything was fine: my family was healthy, and life was normal. Yet, my anxiety doesn’t care about the facts; its sole purpose is to convince me that something is terribly wrong.
While my family chatted and laughed around me, I felt completely detached. My heart raced, and my mind spiraled out of control. I experienced disassociation, a symptom that makes me feel disconnected from my body and thoughts, like I was losing my grip on reality. I didn’t want to disrupt the moment, so I kept it to myself. To anyone looking at me, I probably appeared to be lost in thought, or daydreaming.
This isn’t an uncommon scenario for me. My anxiety manifests quietly; it’s not the stereotypical fast-talking, jittery kind. Instead, I internalized my struggles, often suffering in silence. Even in that sushi restaurant, I hesitated to share what I was going through with my loved ones. Perhaps they would have understood, but I kept my feelings to myself.
In search of relief, I excused myself to the restroom, and in an attempt to regain my composure, I took that photo. Capturing the moment helped me process what was happening. It was just anxiety. I was still me, and I could get through this.
On some level, I wanted to document my experience with panic attacks, especially the silent kind that don’t show on the surface. Taking that picture became a distraction, allowing me to focus on the idea of sharing my story someday.
Since that day, I’ve encountered more panic attacks, and I’ve accepted that it’s part of who I am. One pivotal change I’ve made is to openly discuss my anxiety with those around me. It’s a misconception that anxiety always looks like someone who is visibly distressed. It can also present as calmness or strength while a person is managing their internal turmoil. I’ve learned that anyone can be battling anxiety, even if they seem composed.
Sharing my feelings has been liberating. I realized that I spent years believing my struggles weren’t valid because they didn’t conform to the traditional signs of anxiety. Knowing that my experience was legitimate and worth discussing would have made my journey a bit easier.
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In conclusion, anxiety and panic attacks can take many forms, and each person’s experience is unique. By sharing our stories, we can help others understand that they are not alone in their struggles.