Paranoia Pt. 3: Panic Strike

Paranoia pt. 3: Panic strike

The year was 2011, the end of the year. I had just finished my first semester of gifted/boarding school. The paranoia thing was all but a bad dream, and I'd had no problems for years. Plus I was home for Christmas break, and who doesn't love Christmas?

A few days before Christmas, late at night, I felt my heart skip a beat for no particular reason. This was followed by my heart beating very softly, like it was having trouble beating at all. I was worried that it was some greater problem (cancer! flesh-eating bacteria!!), but then I was able to tell myself "Nah, it's just your paranoia again," as had been so effective in the past.

It didn't work this time. I was still afraid of it, because I could still feel it. I wasn't imagining the strange feeling, just the possible reasons for it. I was able to bat away the fear of those reasons, but not the issue itself. And because of this, I had my first panic attack in several years.

I don't think I've yet described what a panic attack feels like to me. It's like I'm about to faint at all times. All of the nerves in my body simultaneously feel numb and on fire, and I'm overcome with an immense fear of oh my gosh WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME! Whatever I was originally afraid of is just replaced by fear, locking my brain and my body into panic mode. It doesn't hurt, there's no pain, but I do have a little trouble breathing, and a lot of trouble thinking about anything else.

So I woke my mom up and told her what was going on. She tried to allay my fears of what was going on with my heart (it was probably just an air bubble), but of course that wasn't the real problem. The real problem was the attack, and she sat with me for about thirty minutes before it finally released me from its grasp.

After this incident, I started having panic attacks regularly again. Yet there was a weird pattern: I only had the attacks when I wasn't at school. I had to be home on break. Clearly the stress was having a negative effect on me, but why only at home? What I did understand, however, was that they were triggered by my fear of the random pops and squeals of my body.

I went to summer school that year for a relaxing "semester" of American History. I was actually enjoying the format and the learning, and especially getting to meet the new students. But a harmless situation turned into a nightmare when one of the students was giving out cookies and jokingly said they had marijuana in them. I knew it was a joke straightaway, but I had already taken a bite and for a moment before the joke registered I was a little afraid of it (I do this with everything, it's pretty normal by now). Long after the fear had already gone away (as well as the person involved), I had a panic attack - this time at school.

It was like some kind of sacred place had been ruined for me. I knew I never had panic attacks at school, so I didn't have to worry about them there... but the following year (my senior year), I started having them more regularly at school as well. I had no one else to go to except my hall advisor, who was incredibly worried about me but seemed to handle it pretty well. I was always afraid that I bothered him too much, especially since they often happened at night.

It wasn't until the attacks were almost a weekly event that I knew something was very wrong. Almost all of them were triggered by my body, most on the left side surrounding my heart. The more often it happened, the more I was convinced something was wrong, and the faster my panic attack triggered. So I convinced my parents to get me to see a doctor about my left side, or at least my panic attacks.

Just spent the last few hours cleaning off my desk. Yes, it took a few hours, as it has been my special location for piling every piece of paper or other "important" thing for the last few years.

It was quite the trip. School documents, attempts at art, notes from my ex-girlfriend, church bulletins and study notes covered in doodles, applications for things I never went through with, even a (short-lived) journal from 2011. There were bank statements, comic books, magazines, and letters from family and friends, many of which either have never been read or have not been read since residing there.

Needless to say, my desk has not fulfilled its intended purpose for a long time. At last, however, I am using it to type this post. But the real struggle was not cleaning off the desk itself, it was navigating and relocating the contents.

Much of what I sorted through was junk, plain and simple. Either I had no more reason to keep it, or I never had a reason to keep it in the first place. In fact, I was about to throw it all away (except the comics/magazines), until I came across the aforementioned journal. Despite there being nothing of real value written there - which is why I stopped keeping up with it in the first place - I felt like I learned a little bit about how far I've come in those few years. In fact, a lot of the "junk" was interesting in that regard.

Each piece was a part of my life. Some of them brought up decisions I wasn't particularly proud of making. But all of them unlocked a piece of me that I had forgotten existed over time. Each new thing that came along made me forget the decisions I'd made, or the things I'd done, simply because those last few years demanded so much of my attention. But now that I could see them and answer for them, it felt like I no longer had to worry about them.

Mind you, I rarely worried about my past decisions, unless they were severe. But that was because I had to worry about the present. The back of my mind was still saying that something was unresolved, and that only contributed to my stress. Now that I've gotten a chance to catch up again, that feeling is gone - and I can focus on the future.

I still got rid of more than half the junk on my desk. However, I kept the parts that I felt were most important, and put them in a box. Now that I've answered for it and relived it, I can put it away freely. Maybe one day I'll come back to it and wonder what kind of idiot kills off a journal after a month.

*me flipping through someone else's blog again*

me: Let's see how often this person posts

me: three hours ago

me: three hours ago

me: three hours ago

me: three hours ago

me: three months ago

me: three mon- WAITAMINUTE THREE MONTHS AGO

Job assessments from the deep: The repetitive redundancies.

How many places have you worked at in the past? None, this is my first job.

How many times have you been fired? None, because this is my first job...

How many times have you received a promotion? Didn't I just answer that a second ago?

How many times have you been suspended from work? Look, I know this is an automated program, but you could've at least programmed in a skip for these questions.

Here's a list of dream jobs so I can get a post on here

Games journalism for mid-sized internet audience

Let's Player/video reviewer for multi-channel network

Programmer for small indie company

Level designer for larger company like Wayforward

Game localization for Nintendo/Sega

Social media/PR for any gaming-related community

Anything where I can be a part of the gaming community

It's not that I have quirks - I AM a quirk.

Overheard at a restaurant