How does one describe an experience of mental illness? It’s a question I’ve been asking myself a lot lately as I think about putting into words an odyssey I’d rather not dwell on too long. In the last four months I experienced a series of situations I wouldn’t wish on my greatest enemy (not even Trump). It was intolerable, full of suffering, and of course, as these things are, full of grace.
It’s hard to know where to start. I’d rather not divulge certain details. Suffice it to say several anxiety-producing situations (apart from even Covid) converged sometime in August that interfered with my sleep. When my sleep fell apart, I started to go down an abyss of no return. I remember my first night without a minute of sleep. I rotated between listening to a podcast, praying for everyone I knew and writing bits of poetry. But I felt anxious and scared all night. I was scared to go to sleep. I had already had an anxiety attack once and was fearful of another. I thought that perhaps the natural childbirth I had gone through (twice) was easier and preferable to this. At least that would have an end point.
I don’t want to recount the events linearly. Maybe someday. What I do want to remember and will never forget are the depths I was in. Because I still can’t believe I’m on the other side. Every day I wake up and I’m amazed I’ve come out of one of the worst experiences of my life. I’m safe, I’m loved, I’m whole and my worst fears never actually happened. This feels like a true, bonafide miracle.
At the worst point I was having anxiety attacks about every three days. My first attacks were “manageable.” I jogged around the house to get out energy. I did calligraphy to distract myself. I played board games with Peter for spurts of five or ten minutes. I polished silver. I chanted to myself over and over that I’d be OK. But the attacks got worse. The first ones lasted 15 minutes. Soon they were lasting an hour with no end in sight. I begged Peter for help. Fortunately, he had a prescription for anti-anxiety meds (which I had taken before) and although I felt bad taking a drug I hadn’t been prescribed for recently I took it anyway. In an hour I was better. I began to carry around the drugs just in case. But they took an hour to take effect.
During the attacks I became delusional. I thought I’d spin out of control and they’d have to take me to the hospital to a psych ward and I’d never see my family again. I’d be treated by paid staff who would be nice but clinical. I’d never get better. I became so convinced of this I couldn’t get out of the attack. I had other delusions but they are too scary to even write down.
We tried different things. One day I went golfing with Peter to get some fresh air. I was nervous the whole time that I’d see someone I knew and collapse. Or I’d have an attack on the course and I wouldn’t make it back to the car. I gave up driving for the better part of a month. I couldn’t go to the store. I desperately wrote a list of staples we needed so Peter could keep food stocked in the house and did most of my shopping via Instacart. My worst fear was being alone. I couldn’t take walks by myself for fear I would collapse. Now I know I was suffering from something called agoraphobia.
All this was sadly familiar to me. In spring 2011 I suffered a similar string of anxiety and agoraphobia when living in Spain. Peter was in the US when this started happening and when he arrived back he found me in the bathtub trying to relieve a searing pain in my side. It turned out the pain was an ovarian cyst (we never knew if it was related to the anxiety) and I had to spend a traumatic night in a local hospital. That sequence of events is perhaps for another time and place but it ended up sending me back to California to get well. It took me a full year to recover that time. After the anxiety was treated in May or so I spun into a manic episode for much of the summer of 2011. I tried to hide the episode or downplay it, being embarrassed that someone as rational as myself could slide into this. I saw few people and managed to conceal it from all but a few people. In the meantime, I was busy. I almost bought a house, almost bought an office building, wrote a book, had plans to start an olive-importing and chocolate-importing business and had many other grand ideas that were great but didn’t pan out. My doctor warned me that the longer I stayed in this manic place the longer I would eventually fall into a depression. I didn’t believe him. I refused to take drugs. I was having the best time of my life. Why would I want it to end? I had never felt closer to God or happier. But he was right. In October 2011 I slipped into depression and stayed there for a good six months.
After recovering from the events of 2011/2012 I never thought I’d go through anything like that again. My doctor didn’t even really know how to qualify me, as it is very rare for someone to experience their first manic/depressive episode at age 42. He called it the Allison de Laveaga syndrome. In any case, I was stable for eight years and took a light dose of mood-stabilizing drugs. I never understood why I had to go through that hell but I had a false sense that I had beat it and it would never come back again.
It turns out I learned a lot from that first episode. When events unfolded this time I was ready to admit what was happening to anyone and everyone. This time I was open to taking medication and talking to people. I asked for help. A real turning point came when I asked my friend Vicky to come over three days a week to spend time with me. That’s when the healing started. We played board games, did crafts, talked and cooked. I felt normal as long as I had a human with me. I needed medicine too and as soon as I started a regimen of anti-anxiety meds I never had another panic attack. The relief I felt was off the charts. For his part, Peter was an amazing nurse. He stayed with me during the mornings before Vicky arrived. He waited for me to fall asleep every night. He rubbed my back and watched Winnie the Pooh with me to help me fall asleep. For the most part, I couldn’t tolerate TV. It was too violent, to crass, too unpredictable. But Winnie the Pooh was perfect.
I was not in a dark night of the soul. I never lost faith in God, though I did question why so many people had to suffer and I was mad about that. I prayed a lot. I prayed with Peter. I prayed with my parents. I welcomed prayer and I have no doubt there was a spiritual component to my suffering. The evil one loves to see his treasured children suffer. In the midst of all this I was scheduled to lead a spiritual direction group. It took all my strength to lead a group of people in praying to God while I thought I’d fall apart at any minute. If anything, the group helped me more than I helped them. They were a kind and gentle group of close friends and they were tender and supportive as I honestly shared where I was at.
As so happens with these cycles, I’m now hypomanic, not quite fully manic but not far from it. It’s the best feeling in the world. If there was a drug to induce this it would be in high demand. I have endless creativity, exuberance and excitement for life, not much need for sleep, and an overall contentment. I’m carefully monitoring the situation with my doctor as I don’t want this to accelerate and then crash. But I’m also sad if he chooses to medicate me. After all I’ve been through I just want joy. But more than that I don’t want depression.
I know the work isn’t over. During my panic attacks I was reminded of certain long-standing phobias. I am sometimes afraid of going to the store. Maybe I will faint or maybe I will lose my wallet and embarrass myself. I am afraid of driving over highway overpasses. Even before this current episode started I was adjusting my driving to avoid steep hills and overpasses. I have a book called “Mastery of Your Anxiety and Panic.” My doctor recommended it. He recommended it in 2011 and I bought it but after things got better I gave it away. I didn’t think I needed it. So this time I bought it again and I know I have to face these things if I want to live a normal life. In addition to my psychiatrist I am working with a therapist to overcome these phobias.
One of the worst parts of this current episode was the concurrent depression. I lost interest in a lot of things and couldn’t write or read. I was especially upset about the writing and reading. But I just couldn’t concentrate. When people talked to me about slightly complex matters I just blanked out. I was scared I’d lose my keen mind and the reading and writing that I treasured. I could barely speak Spanish too, another favorite pastime, and I had to give up my weekly group. I could write a bit of poetry though and did continue with that. I could also address get-out-the-vote postcards and took some pleasure in that. I discovered I am terrible at jigsaw puzzles but I’m good at coloring.
As I told my spiritual director, my world has been widened through this experience. I understand more fully what it means to be human, to traverse the depths and heights. I also have a relationship with Peter, my sons and my parents that’s incredibly sweet and honest. To be fully loved is an incredible feeling. I cry more often now. I feel more deeply. I’ll never go back to being as rational and controlled as I was before. Many other truly incredible “coincidences” happened during this time. I’m just starting to unravel them. “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.”
Thank you for sharing – in the deepest sense of the word – this beautiful piece. Mental illness is like any illness, and it’s good to share experiences of what worked and what didn’t to heal. I’m proud to know you and proud of you, as a long-time friend and fellow writer.
Thanks Kriss. I’m proud to know you too and love following your work in Wisconsin. Thanks for taking time to reply.
It sounds as if the experience was terrifying. I’m glad you’ve recovering. The mind is a mysterious thing.
I remember reading I never promised you a rose garden when I was in high school. It was an interesting book that I recommended to my Art teacher. I’m not suggesting it for you but it’s about a young woman who experiences something similar and her journey through it. Because of the way it’s written the reader eerily experiences the episode along with her.
I’m glad you learned to be aware when you are actually safe from imminent danger and to clarify that to yourself. We all need to challenge the rationale of our thoughts sometimes & are better for it..
It’s helpful to pray & know too that prayers are with you. I think it’s okay to question God about what’s happening as we all desire a ‘peek under the curtain’ so we may better understand. Our minds always try to make sense out of things. I have had a few spirited one sided discussions with God myself. On occasion desperately wondering if I was even being heard. I was! With events changing literally within a day and in a manner I wouldn’t have even thought to hope for. Give the matter over to God & ask directly for what you need. Take care in what you ask for so you are not challenged beyond your ability to cope. Sending you love & concern & prayers. – Noreen
Thanks Noreen for your many wise and insightful comments. I’m glad you are a prayerful person and agree it’s OK to question God. Thanks for all your prayers and concerns. I know I can always count on you and Frank for support. That is a wonderful feeling.
I read your blog last night and again this morning. It brought back memories of my own indescribable decent into mental illness about 10 years ago. The panic attacks were horrific. I would have to get on a treadmill and run to try to burn up the adrenaline dumps. My heart raced in my chest day and night. The fear of losing my mind only accelerated the panic. I hear people toss around the term “panic attacks” and they think it’s like being really scared. The reality is that it’s like dying. After getting medical help, I was able to recover. However, as you so beautifully expressed, you emerge from such experiences a changed person. More compassionate, easily moved, more dependent on God’s help, more aware of God’s mercy. Thank you for being willing to write about your experiences and for offering hope to those who suffer. I’m so blessed to have had compassionate friends around me and you are too.
Thanks for relating and sharing. Yes, when I first started having the panic attacks I had so much adrenaline I felt like I could run a marathon. I raced my way quickly up our hill, whereas usually I drag. The fear of the fear is the worst. I think you’re right that people don’t understand what a panic attack really is. I kept telling myself no one had ever died of a panic attack and that gave me some solace. I want to thank you for leading me to Dr. Patel. He has been a huge blessing. I don’t know how I would have survived without him, before or now. God works things out for good.
HI Allison, te entiendo perfectamente y me alegro que asumass tus circunstancias y las superes.
Como sabrás yo he estado con depresión durante unos 5 o 6 años. Medicado a tope, sin rumbo y con una pareja que no me entendió ni me apoyo, lo que desencadeno en un divorcio. Las muerte de mis padres en 14 meses coincidiendo con mi divorcio. Una Trombosis bilateral que me tuvo 10 días en la UCI y vi de cerca el otro lado.
Afortunadamente tengo buenas noticias para ti, todo se puede superar con ayuda y algo de tu parte. Yo estoy viendo los brotes verdes, tengo un futuro laboral con muchas luces y personal con ganas de tirar para adelante. Disfruto a tope de mis hijos que han sido una ayuda fundamental y he aprendido a disfrutar más de la vida y entenderla a ratos. Tu eres afortunada, tienes unos hijos maravillosos, un marido que se preocupa por ti y eres una gran persona. GO ON.
Te cuento esto para que veas que no eres la única, ahi mucha gente que lo sufre en silencio, es una enfermedad como la peste que mucha gente rehuye y no te suelen entender, es dificil contarlo al mundo y la gente solo te dice que estas ahi porque tu quieres, isn´t true?. Bienvenida al club. änimo y enhorabuena, estas en el camino.YOU ARE ON WAY.
Cualquier ayuda que necesites aquí me tienes.
So many thoughts have surfaced reading your blog. First I notice your honesty and your courage. You are in the middle of a big-time transformation which we know is orchestrated by God. You have been so open and receptive And courageous about relating your experiences. Thank you!
. Trust in the Lord and you will be safe and loved. As a Friend of your parents I know you are enveloped by love by Tom, Karen, your husband Peter,your sons and your wonderful friends. I read some of their responses to your expressions. You are a writer par excellence , Maybe that’s why God picked on you knowing you would express your experiences so well and help so many people, including myself. I agree with you about the “people’s conception of a panic attack. It is incomplete. I am educated by your courageous expression of your experiences.
Thanks for your comments and encouragement. You are right that I am enveloped by love and I am so grateful. Thanks for your compliments to my writing. That is so nice to hear and helps me keep going. Thanks for being a good friend and prayer partner to my mom all these years!