My Story

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Transcript

I locked myself into a bathroom stall at work. I felt like I could hardly breathe. The more gasping for air, the worse it got. I had a tightness in my chest like I was suffocating. There was total and utter fear. About eight years or so ago, I suddenly started getting panic attacks.

I didn't know what they were at first. I had just taken a directorship position at a major research university and had moved close to downtown Los Angeles. Both my office and my apartment shared a wall with a major freeway. And at first I thought my shortness of breath was a result of the high smog levels. on one particular day, I was sitting at my desk at work when suddenly I felt like I could barely breathe. The sensation made me gasp for air even more, which ironically made the sensation worse.

I went to the bathroom and locked myself in one of the stalls in hopes that the sensation would pass before my co workers noticed. Eventually though, this is became so bad that I thought I might need an ambulance. My anxiety level was so high at that point that a scene caused by an ambulance and all of my co workers and a ruckus would have been way too much for me to handle at the time, I feared losing consciousness, and then I decided to call my brother and ask him to take me to the emergency room. Upon arriving in the emergency room, the nurses checked my lung capacity. To my surprise, it was 100%. They told me that I was most likely having a panic attack and offered an injectable sedative.

The thought of an injection increased my anxiety even more, so I declined. At the time, I could not fully accept what was happening to me. I rationalized the possible misdiagnosis. Still believing that the bad air was causing my breathing problems, and perhaps too much coffee was causing my anxiousness. I had never had anxiety issues in the past, let alone a panic attack. I find myself to be rational level headed and overall Put together, I viewed panic attacks and anxiety issues as disorders of people with mental emotional problems.

I had no real idea what was happening to me at the time. And my only coping mechanism, whenever I felt shortness of breath coming on was to drive to the beach, look at the ocean and deeply take in the fresh air. I thought that clean air in contrast to the smog right lived and worked was causing me to feel better. Little did I know there was only one small factor. As crazy as it sounds to me now, I got used to the constant shortness of breath. Eventually, however, things began to fall apart at work, and I became increasingly disillusioned with life in general.

Even the one thing I did for myself, play guitar became a chore. I wanted no other work opportunities because none of them sounded appealing to me. There was nothing I wanted to do. The one vision that kept replaying in my mind was a fantasy of traveling the world. Living in different countries for long periods of time. I've learned the local language and culture This had been replaying in my mind for years.

But I thought it was too late in my life for me to make such a drastic move. My life had already taken a specific trajectory, and I thought I needed to stick to it. To make matters worse, I got a new boss at work, who was charged with making some radical changes to our department. I could no longer at least settle into the comfortable bored of my head, and my stress levels soared to an all time high. At the same time, I was experiencing tension in the relationship with my ex girlfriend. She had her life aspirations completely mapped out and was happy and successful that our job as a pediatrician, I on the other hand, was completely lost.

I found it increasingly difficult to communicate deeply with her and we grew apart. I was also resentful of her for not understanding the issues I was having with my breathing. She suggested they were all psychosomatic, which upset me. In hindsight, however, I believe she was right. Nonetheless, my anxiety was very real. If I needed to get professional help, eventually I reached a boiling point and knew that if I didn't leave my life situation, I would mentally crack.

I told my ex girlfriend I was quitting my job. She didn't receive this news well and found it completely contradictory to the plans we've made together, of eventually buying a house and starting a family. She thought I was going crazy and figured it would be better off if we parted ways. Deep down inside. I knew this was the right decision, but I had difficulty facing it. I sent in my resignation notice at work and began to focus on self care.

I started surfing daily because I found this to be immensely therapeutic. I also started seeing a therapist so I could have the opportunity to talk about my issues and organize my thoughts and decisions. One of the last things my ex girlfriend asked me right after we broke up was, what are you going to do now? I responded, I'm going to Bali. In the two years that followed, I traveled to five different countries, Indonesia, Singapore. Costa Rica, Nicaragua and Panama.

It has been the most amazing period of my life so far. One of unparalleled personal growth, where I had the opportunity to witness indescribable beauty and experience enjoyments and bliss like I never experienced before. Recently, I saw psychologists as part of my regular talk therapy sessions I find so helpful in my life. I asked him, What would have happened if I didn't go away when I felt like I was going to crack. What does it exactly mean to crack? He told me I probably would have had a nervous breakdown, which leads some people to be put in an institution on psychiatric hold for a few days.

The objective of such institutions is simply to withdraw an individual from all of the stressors in their lives, stressors that caused a sort of system overload. The psychologist said, I basically withdrew myself voluntarily escaping to a much more fun and pleasing environment to allow Myself time to heal. Personally, I choose a tropical surf town over a pad itself any day of the week. I haven't had a panic attack in about eight years since the days described at the beginning of this story, nor has the shortness of breath ever returned. I attribute my overall comparatively more common mental emotional state, to my conscious effort of placing myself in environments that are therapeutic, natural environments where I can feel reconnected and at peace. For me, it's the ocean.

For some it's the forest or mountains. in all circumstances, though, it's an environment where the mind can rest and the individual can once again feel reconnected at a deeper level.

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