The Gift of Panic Attacks
Prioritizing Mental Health at Work
It was a Friday afternoon during summer and I finally decided to take a break, mostly because my dog, Ivy, was digging her snout into my leg, indicating “Dad, I need to go outside now!” If only her freeloading ass knew I had a looming deadline and an endless amount of work stress pumping through my brain, she might’ve cut me a break.
Just the previous week, I was meant to be out of the office on vacation but my boss and co-workers kept calling me, raging fires ablaze on our upcoming product launch. I ended up working my entire vacation, knowing there would be threats and consequences if we didn’t get it done right. Insert rage and colorful four-letter words here.
Needless to say, I was overworked, cranky, stressed, tired, beat down, and burnt out but the bills weren’t going to pay themselves. But that’s not Ivy’s fault so I begrudgingly stepped away from my computer and headed outside.
The day was stunning, with clear skies, the sun shining, not too hot. How am I missing this beautiful weather? I questioned to myself as if I just noticed it was summer, and mid-summer at that. And here I was, work occupying the majority of my time and energy, and I was allowing life to pass me by. I’m too young to be adulting this hard!
This epiphany immediately perked me up and off I went, ready to soak up the gorgeous day.
Not so fast.
Five minutes into my walk, I felt like my blood pressure dropped to zero, everything draining out of me. I took several more steps trying to shake off the sensation but it intensified instead. Time stood still as the innards of my head whooshed around my brain, delivering a dizzying effect and zapping my kinetic energy to a halt. I stood motionless as if my feet were cemented to the ground, counteracting the vertigo, even with Ivy oblivious and trying to pull me to the next grassy knoll.
Unconsciously, my stance released its grip on the concrete, blindly consenting Ivy to slowly drag me to a grass patch where she stopped to relieve herself. The sound of liquid splattering onto the earth morphed into a pounding thud, first at my temple then traveling to my chest where it bumped over and over in the larger chamber. I came to, realizing it was my heart either escaping my chest cavity or announcing its impending detonation inside.
Before I could discover the answer, a wave of fear slammed into me, like a ghost possession, entering and commandeering my body. One single thought emerged and chanted repeatedly: I’m dying.
It’s the end and I’d spent the last hours of my life doing someone else’s work due to their incompetence. I’m dying.
My chest was tightening, only expanding to make room for my heart’s thumping. My mind raced, unable to land on a single purpose other than to repeat my new mantra: I’m dying. My world was shrinking into this singular moment where my life would end, two blocks from my home.
A heat blasted through me, soaking my back, my forehead, everywhere with sweat, yet I was frozen in place. I’m dying.
I heard a voice in my ear, snapping me back momentarily. My phone was in my hand, I’d reflexively called my best friend, Tina, blurting out, “I’m having a panic attack!”
I’m dying.
“I’m having a panic attack,” I repeat, mostly to myself. I’m dying.
“You’re ok, it’s ok,” Tina reassures me. “Do you want me to meet you where you’re at?”
“Umm, I don’t know. I’m having a panic attack,” as if she didn’t know. “I just need to tell someone.” I’m dying.
“Where are you?”
“I’m in between the park and my apartment, I’m only a couple blocks away. I’m stuck. I don’t know what to do. I’m having a panic attack.” I’m frantically speaking, mainly because my panic attack plan is to identify and tell someone. That’s all I need to do, I know that. Check.
I’d had panic attacks a few times before, years prior, which is the only reason I had a plan in the first place. But you’re never ready for them regardless.
“Please stay with me. I just need you to talk to me.” You’re not dying. This isn’t real.
“I’m here. Just breath. I don’t want to be an asshole, but can you touch grass or soemthing?” Tina coyly asks.
“Hahaaaaa! Oh my god, yes! I need to ground myself. Yes.” This briefly offers a reprieve and I can feel the panic attack’s grip on me begin to loosen slightly.
Now that’s a great friend. Tina and I’d spoken at length about mental health and she was on her own journey too so we loved to share our experiences and what we’d each learned. We had just recently discussed grounding exercises and she thankfully reminded me I had that tool in my repertoire.
“I see the park. I see Ivy. I see a fence. I see a bridge. I see a red car. I feel the rope texture of Ivy’s leash, I feel the cement of a pillar I’m walking by…” I continued in staccato statements, working my way through the exercise.
As I returned to the present, the spell on my movement started to lift and I was able to slowly take steps toward home.
Repeat, repeat, repeat. You are ok. You are not dying.
It took my best friend, my sister-in-law, and several Xanax to escape the tyranny of this panic attack, lasting much of the afternoon. I had planned to continue working post-walk but my body put me in my place, telling me I was no longer in charge, and I was done for the day, for the weekend.
When I finally emerged from the intense and foggy terror, I knew I had to slow down and make some changes. Well, first I contacted my primary physician and my therapist, and then I started making some changes. If I hadn’t been forced to stop or slow down, I would have run myself into the ground, potentially six feet under. And for what? To be underappreciated and overworked? No ma’am.
Here is what I did next:
I moved my desk out of the common area and into a space with a door. Having my workspace stare at me all day encouraged me to bop over and get one more thing done, and another, and another, it never ends. Out of sight out of mind.
Now that my desk was in another room, I had to be diligent about ending work on time. At 5:00 pm each day, work was over for me. I won’t lie, I struggled with this so I enlisted my friend to help hold me accountable. We would tell each other to “close the door and light a candle” to officially end the day, making a habit of not returning to that room until the following day. Our little chant worked! The only downside was I needed to up my candle budget.
I turned off all notifications on my phone. Email, Slack, our project management system, I would have to seek them out to check any of them, and they would no longer find me.
I stopped volunteering for work and assignments unless they fell directly within my job description and were part of my responsibilities. I could still be a team player without trying to do it all. Let’s let others shine.
I would no longer exceed 40 hours per week, making that the upper max of how much I would work each week. Additionally, weekends were no longer an option, that’s my time.
I declined more meetings. If I am on calls all day, when do I have time to work? During my personal time was the answer previously but no more. I would find time to execute work during work hours. What a concept?! To achieve this feat, I started time-blocking my calendar, making it clear I was unavailable. If something truly was important, the person would need to contact me directly and check if I could rearrange my schedule.
I took more breaks. I got my ass outside to walk every single day and now I crave getting outside and absorbing my community.
I stopped answering phone calls from peers, colleagues, and co-workers during non-working hours. Somehow, I had made it acceptable for them to contact me outside of work previously, but now that door was slammed shut. No one is home.
Finally, I shared my experience with my boss and colleagues. If I was feeling this way, there would be a high probability someone else could be feeling similarly and wouldn’t you know it, others were struggling as well! This opened a line of communication and connection, resulting in an informal support group. We are all in this together.
These boundaries changed the game for me and changed my perspective on work. I learned to not take myself so seriously and that work is not my life nor does it define me as a person. I can still take pride in my work and strive to exceed expectations but I am not a machine, I am a human. I enjoy feeling productive but not at the expense of my health and I’m so glad my body spoke up.
What types of boundaries do you have in place?
this is so utterly familiar and spot on. i had my first panic attack in a while a few months ago, spurring some new consistency of dread… one moment i was in my kitchen simply existing the next i had no breath, very little sensation, and a dark cloud over me. it slowly passed over ten minutes and i decided to move on with my day i drove to the gym and half way there i stopped at urgent care and just sat in the office for over an hour as my panic grew and grew and peaked and dissipated. it felt very isolating and i felt ashamed for some reason.