Panic at the Disco

~ Late 90s - mid 00s

I'd be having the best night out with my friends when I'd feel it rise; typically when we were in a basement-type bar or nightclub in Edinburgh or Glasgow. And it happened a lot. I'd heard of claustrophobia and as much as it maybe sounds like that, it wasn't. I knew this because I could happily be at ease in small spaces or crowded areas at any other time. This was a different thing - but perhaps the low basement ceilings, hot lights and sweaty crowd didn't help.

It would build gradually until I could feel my heart thumping hard in my chest, accompanied by sweaty palms and a strange dizziness, but it would become a slow-creeping, rather sinister shortness of breath. Always. That's why I knew it wasn't claustrophobia: I'd get the same feeling in other anxious situations - even at home- or in a safe, uncrowded place.

The evening would carry on with me trying to block out the growing, uncomfortable feeling in my chest that would boldly edge upwards with such intensity that I'd almost feel an imminent choke-hold. I'd discreetly take myself off outside to gasp for air and to 'get myself out of it' in my own weird way. It would often feel like I was going to die from the inability to inhale a deep enough breath. Other times, I could've sworn it felt like I was having a heart attack with the overwhelming palpitations that would join in on my outdoor calm-down-party. (I'm aware how dramatic this all sounds.)

And there it was. The most unwelcome of party guests: The Panic Attack.

I'd immediately be in a variety of stretches and stances, leaning on railings or walls outside the place, in a quiet corner. I'd be on my tip-toes stretching upwards or I'd be on my hunkers, curled up and I'd flit between the two to get some relief. I'd be trying to fully stretch out my chest and back, whilst elongating my neck and opening my mouth to gulp in as much air as possible.

I remember reading that yawning fully opens up your airways and if you're struggling to breathe, it can be helpful to try to make yourself yawn. So I'd be out there fake-yawning and trying to bring on the yawns. It's surprising how quickly you actually start real-yawning just by willing it on. I must've looked a sight to anyone catching a glimpse of me writhing in the shadows. I knew, though, if I could get a full, slow, deep breath, I could start to control what was happening and break the cycle.

Around that time I explained all this to my pal Julie. She was amazing. I called it my ‘breathy thing’ as I’m not even sure the term ‘panic attack’ was a common term. There was certainly a sense that anxiety, anyway, wasn’t really taken very seriously in general, and I kind of felt like a fraud or something. It was as though I had something that really just didn’t exist, so feeling like a weirdo with it was commonplace. The friends who knew about it though, were just really supportive. Even though it was hard to explain.

On numerous occasions, Julie & I would be out together - often in a crowd - and I’d slink off outside to breathe and, almost instinctively, five or ten minutes later, she would appear, sensing why she couldn’t find me inside. It must’ve been weird for her to watch, but what a sweetie. Just knowing she ‘got it’ made it that little bit easier. At least I had someone to get rid of the bouncers asking questions. They usually just assumed I was drunk. To this day, I still don’t know what would bring the panic on but it was absolutely horrendous and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

After I’d done some research into panic attacks, I decided that I needed to look into ways of keeping as calm as possible day-to-day. I read The Little Book of Calm about 142 times and kept it by my bed. I had lavender bubble baths, started listening to Deepak Chopra a lot and I swear I could’ve had shares in Bach’s Rescue Remedy. That little bottle of liquid magic got me through countless job interviews; being a bridesmaid and doing readings at weddings (happy privileges like this often came with major ‘I can’t do this’ kind of stress) ... annnnnnnd... passing my driving test (no more shaking right leg jumping off the accelerator!)

I remember there was a small natural remedies shop on my route home from work in Stockbridge in Edinburgh and I’d spend ages in there, seeking out the best possible herbal tincture for my anxious mind, only to come out with my trusty old Rescue Remedy, in both dropper and spray form - you know, just in case. It was a godsend, I’ll tell you. I still don’t know what it really is or what it really did. I even knew at the time that it was probably a placebo effect, but it was harmless and it worked for me. Even if it was just my mind telling me it did.

The good news is, even though I still have to manage my general anxiety issues, I can’t tell you the last time I had a panic attack. At least ten years ago, maybe longer. I think a lot of it is down to a mild obsession with personal development / woo-woo stuff and a deep-down feeling that I'm being looked after and I'm going to be okay. I surrounded myself with quotes and books on mindset, positivity, gratitude and more. I devoured material from psychologists, philosophers and coaches. And steadily over the years, as an anxious thought would arise, I’d find my self mindfully recalling the words of Deepak Chopra, Wayne Dyer, Eckhart Tolle, Marianne Williamson, Tony Robbins, Jim Rohn, Louise Hay. I got so familiar with them, that they would ring in my ears and inform my thinking. I often think of Deepak's powerful saying:

No matter what aggravates you, remember it's just a thought and you can let it go."

My favourite to this day, though, and the one that has served me more than any other has been the classic:

"This too shall pass."

I don't even know who it is attributed to. Four magical, little words that, if focused on, have the power to transform the moment that you are stuck in. This too shall pass.

For me, on more occasions than I can count, it helped get me back on the dancefloor with my friends.