It was the first day of my sophomore year in high school. My first class was an acting class called 'Performing Arts.' I walked downstairs to the first floor and into the room in which the class was being held. I sat down and pulled out a pen and a notebook. There were only about fifteen students in the class. The teacher began his introduction lecture. I suddenly became dizzy, faint, shaky, and I started to sweat immensely. It felt like the symptoms came on one by one. I had felt them many times before, but they were never this strong. I felt fear creeping into my mind. I told the teacher that I needed to go see the nurse. He said, 'Now? Can't you wait?' Then he looked up at me, and told me to go. I had no idea what was happening to me. I tried to walk up the stairs to get to the nurse's office, but I was too weak. I was so faint that I had to cling to the banister to keep from falling. I must have looked like I was heavily intoxicated. Other students came around the corner to go downstairs, and saw me almost falling over. They backed off a bit, and then asked if I needed help. I said no, and to leave me alone. I was just as confused as they were.
When I finally reached the nurse's office, she immediately laid me down on the small, doctor-like table. I told her what happened in the classroom. She said I was pale as a ghost, and that it sounded like an anxiety attack. She asked me if anyone in my family had anxiety. Now I was even more confused. I told her that I didn't think so.
When I finally felt better, which was hours later, she sent me on to my next class. I was scared. I didn't know what had just happened, and I didn't know when it would happen again. When I got out of school I asked my mother if anyone in the family had anxiety attacks. She nonchalantly said that every woman on her side of the family had anxiety attacks. Well, now if I had known this ten years ago, I would have known what was wrong with me.
I have had these symptoms for as long as I can remember. I was always a quiet child, and everyone was always trying to get me to talk. I saw no need to talk to people. In school, and even now I'm basically considered a loner. I have always liked being a loner. I write, I read, and I enjoy it.
I never saw it as a bad thing. Everyone else did. My kindergarten teacher even tried to keep me back, because I was 'too quiet.' My dad refused, and told her where to go.
For the next five years I had various anxiety attacks. Some I could almost ignore, but most were dreadfully overwhelming. I even have attacks when I think about having them. The anticipation of getting one actually gives me one. It's a vicious, cruel circle. I was too proud to take medication, let alone tell anyone about it.
In May of 2000, I signed up at a college for a business degree. I thought that I could control the attacks, and everything would be fine. I attended one semester, and then quit. The more I tried controlling them, the worse they got. I had an attack every school day. I couldn't take it anymore. I had done some research on anxiety and panic disorders, but I still wasn't ready to admit I needed help.
Two years later, I made an appointment with my family doctor. I got an anxiety attack calling to make the appointment, and every time in between when I thought about going there. I had one while driving to the doctor's office, the whole time I was there, and on the ride home. He prescribed Zoloft, and said that we would see how it goes. I agreed, and went home. This disorder-whatever it's called-affects my life tremendously.