As a therapist, my role has always been to help others navigate their mental health challenges. However, there’s one particular struggle that has profoundly shaped both my professional practice and personal life: panic disorder. This is my story, not just as a therapist, but as someone who has faced the terrifying grip of panic attacks.
The First Wave
My first panic attack hit me like a tsunami—unexpected, overwhelming, and utterly terrifying. I was in graduate school, preparing for an exam, when suddenly, my heart began to race uncontrollably. I felt a tightness in my chest, as if I couldn’t breathe, and an impending sense of doom engulfed me. I was certain I was dying. The room spun around me, and I desperately tried to regain control, but the harder I fought, the worse it became.
In sheer panic, I rushed to the ER, convinced that something was seriously wrong with me. Instead of receiving reassurance, I was accused of being on drugs, which only added to my confusion and fear. The doctors eventually administered Ativan to calm me down and metoprolol to manage my skyrocketing heart rate, but the experience left me feeling humiliated and dismissed. It was my first harsh lesson in how misunderstood panic attacks can be, even in medical settings.
The attack lasted only a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. When it finally subsided, I was left exhausted and bewildered. How could this happen to me? I was studying to be a therapist, learning all the techniques to manage anxiety, yet here I was, completely consumed by it. This was my first lesson in the unpredictability and indiscriminate nature of panic disorder.
The Silent Struggle
For a long time, I kept my panic disorder hidden. I was ashamed, feeling that I had somehow failed as a therapist because I couldn’t control my own anxiety. I continued to help my clients, offering them the tools and support they needed, while secretly battling my own internal war. I feared that if I disclosed my struggle, my credibility would be questioned. How could I guide others through their anxiety if I couldn’t manage my own?
This silence only made the disorder worse. The panic attacks became more frequent, and I began to develop anticipatory anxiety—constantly worrying about when the next attack would strike. It was a vicious cycle, one that I couldn’t seem to break. My world began to shrink as I avoided situations that I feared might trigger an attack. Social gatherings, busy places, and even the simple act of driving became sources of immense dread.
Finding My Way Back
It wasn’t until I decided to seek help that I began to reclaim my life from panic disorder. I realized that I couldn’t do this alone, and I reached out to a therapist who specialized in anxiety disorders. This was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made, but it was also the most empowering. It was in therapy that I learned to face my panic attacks with acceptance rather than resistance.
Through cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT), I started to identify and challenge the catastrophic thoughts that fueled my panic. I learned breathing techniques and grounding exercises that helped me stay present during an attack. Most importantly, I began to understand that panic disorder didn’t define me as a person or as a therapist.
A New Perspective
My experience with panic disorder has profoundly impacted my approach to therapy. I now understand, on a deeply personal level, what it feels like to be gripped by fear and uncertainty. This empathy allows me to connect with my clients in a way I couldn’t before. I’ve found that my struggle has made me a better therapist—more patient, more compassionate, and more attuned to the nuances of anxiety.
I also make it a point to be open with my clients about my own experiences when appropriate. I believe that this vulnerability fosters a sense of trust and normalizes the idea that mental health challenges can affect anyone, even those who are trained to help others.
Embracing the Journey
Living with panic disorder is not easy, and it’s something I continue to manage every day. But I’ve come to see it as part of my journey, not a detour from it. It’s taught me invaluable lessons about strength, vulnerability, and the human capacity to heal.
If there’s one message I hope to impart to others struggling with panic disorder, it’s this: You are not alone. Seeking help is not a sign of weakness, but of strength. And most importantly, panic disorder doesn’t have to define you—it’s just one chapter in your story, not the whole book.
As a therapist, and as someone who has walked this path, I stand with you. Together, we can navigate the waves of panic, find our footing, and continue forward—stronger, wiser, and more resilient than before.
If you or a loved one are struggling with panic attacks, don’t hesitate to reach out to me to schedule a free consultation. You don’t have to do this alone.
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