when you lose something you cannot replace
of rage and panick attacks
My first panick attack happened while I was doing my reharsal at theatre. During a pause, taking a glance to a post on facebook. Something happened. Short of breath. White hands. Trembling. Vomit sensation at my stomach.
At that time, I did not realize it well.
I was not able to name it.
The second one happened at morning in a crowded street and I saved myself by entering a church. To celebrate, I spent the day in a bookshop.
And then the third and the fourth time until the climax on St. valentine’ s day. I was about to go to my book presentation. I was driving. Traffic at its zenith. I was framed. And again: tremblings along harms and legs. Heartbeating as quick as if my heart would like to be slammed away from my chest, searching for a new house. In heaven.
Until I realized I was under attack. I was feeling like dying.
My first reaction each time I survived, was denial. With the creeping sensation to be ready for the next time.
My second reaction — and still it is — was shame, will of hiding.
I started considering I cannot be in control of myself. I started an EMDR program.
During the lockdown, I appreciated that kind of forced isolation: it kept me safe for a while. Or I thought I was.
And then suddently, my enemy knocked again at my door.
My first reaction was calming down by myself. Massaging with my fingers, my closed eyes. Breathing slowly, as during meditation. Focusing on something different. Writing list of things. Nothing seemed to work. Eventually I stood up, walking in circle in the room until I felt my heartbeating slowing down. That heaviness of my body abandoning me. That heaviness of somebody choking me, abandoning me. I was safe. And my tears streamed down on my face as the award I deserved. I was safe, incredibly. I did not die.
It was just one time.
And the rhythm started again, merciless.
Regardless of my efforts, because I was split and one side of myself was going to embrace that enemy, was going to consider I was not able to live life anymore. But… I kept struggling. Considering the idea that my body was telling me I was undergoing a burden to heavy to stand.
Acting as the strongest one, acting as the the one-who-is-always-there, feeling others’ discomfort, helping them to survive and thrive, being too empathetic, holding back my emotions, this leaves of feelings and emotions wrapped around my soul, were suffocating me. I did not recognize myself anymore. I was living by hiding, under fear, in a trench.
No vision.
No way out.
Until today.
Until this morning, after my usual scanning-body routine: feeling I was alive and why and how. Questioning about the reason why my heart was beating in that way or not.
Until this morning, after my usual thinking and ruminating and then something happened.
I started feeling angry.
Angry towards that part of me who was avoiding me not to live anymore.
I was angry against that part of myself who was making me living under the trench of fear.
And the rage was growing and growing. And I feel myself alive.
And this gave me the strenght to stand up. To have my breakfast without fearing if that slice of bread was going to hurt me somehow. To go to the sea and swim. To make myself wrapped by the water. to get some normal. To sit and write and share without regret. Opening my heart fearing not of any judgement.
I was angry.
I am angry.
I know this will save me.
I do not want to know if for a while or more.
I am angry.
I want to live.
I know what is the source of this red flag a wicked wind is shaking in front of my eyes: one year ago I was really about to die.
My panick attacks rember me without any grace that fact. The truth about me. A reality I am not able to face. A reality underneath the surface of my day-by-day living, because I am lost.
My panick attacks remember me to discover who I am just through fear — this ancestral motion — to discover I am worthy. To discover I can survive and I can live. And even when I think this is not going to end, I know deep inside myself I will fix it. I am not alone. For now rage is my ally.
