It starts out fairly slow. Almost as if its warning me. Brace yourself Jacqui, in a moment you won't be able to catch your breath. My brain barrels toward memories of Ryan. My mind makes me, forces me to search for his voice. It replays his little voice in my head with out warrant. I see Ryan and I fiercely miss him. I close my eyes and I want to hold him but I can't. Then my mind starts pointing out all the negative. His toys are in storage, I hate that there might be dust on them. His clothes that use to cover his body, his clothes that he use to love to pick out are all folded and have been still for ten months. I hate that. I hate that it gets so quiet at times. I want to hear his yell and cheerful screams.
Instead I start to scream with anger.
I grab my chest and I can't catch my breath. Sometimes I punch a pillow if I'm on my bed. Sometimes all I can do is fall to my knees. That's how fast it hits. What starts it can be anything, but whatever it is, a song, a comment ... it quickly sparks a memory of my son that pulls so deep on my heart. It pulls me do deep I can't focus. All my strength and confidence of "living a full and happy life for my son" vaporizes and leaves me in a dusty reality. The dirty harsh reality that my son is forever gone. Our beautiful moments together are never to be felt or lived again. In this life anyway. In this life, his life is over. I hate that more than anything.
My body and mind panic together with my heart feeling lifeless in the middle.
I have panic attacks. About once or twice a week the big scary ones hit. I cry everyday and let myself have the moments I need, but the real panic attacks arise out of no where. I'm assuming they are happening to me because I'm going through something extremely tragic. And although I experience these a few times a week I still feel so unfamiliar with it all. They feel insane and horrible and last anywhere from ten minutes to an hour. I don't do anything or take anything to make them stop. I just succumb to whatever it is my body is doing and let it run its nasty course. I have found that if I give in and let it have control it ends faster.
My poor husband is so great and handles me with care. Though I'm positive it is not an easy task. I figured I need help to try and curb these attacks. But I'm a freak and want to try and stay as natural as possible . . . So I'm going to try and get into essential oils and see how that bodes.
We are all different, especially with the ways we handle hard things such as grief, anxiety, all of it. Oils may not work for everyone or me. Nothing may work who knows! I don't know much, but I'm eager to learn how to cope with my own struggles. I hope that you are confident to find ways that work for you no matter what it is. At the end of it all we just need help putting one foot in front of the other.
Up until right now only my close family has known about these panic attacks of mine. The thought of sharing them and what my mind and body goes through while experiencing them is scary! I usually try and stay positive but the truth is, this grief of mine is dark and twisted at times. I'm happy to write out the feelings that flow through me during my panic attacks because I want to remember them. Even though these experiences are intense and terrifying, they are mine. They are specific to the grief of losing my son. My baby boy. It is a horrible and tragic thing, but there is beauty sprinkled through out it all. My baby boy is beautiful. And who knows, maybe someone out there has these kinds of panic attacks too . . . we can help one another.