Bullied: Panic Attack

Chapter 5
Panic stricken….
It started midway during the first semester of that freshman year. I had held things together academically and would eventually post a 3.9 GPA. However, I knew that I was losing grip in many ways. Again I had made friends quickly but they slid away as my nightly “Poor me” speeches and over the top efforts to please pushed them away.
On a chilly November morning I headed to my African History class with that anxious, sad, isolated persona that I had grown to accept. Jumping on the campus bus I grabbed a seat and looked around wishing so desperately that I could capture some of the confidence and self-worth that circulated among my fellow passengers. Something was different on this trip. My head was foggy. I couldn’t sit still. Everyone and everything seemed to take up more space as mass and molecules closed in on my space. I noticed my breathing, the pressure upon my chest. I was gasping for air. The muscles in my arms and legs tightened. I felt like I had gained a hundred pounds. “What the hell was going on? I had to get out now! At the next stop I shoved my way by irritated students and jumped off the bus.
The weird feelings continued and seemed to incapacitate me more. Looking around I spotted the signs for the infirmary. I walk/ran trying to look composed as I approached the medical building. Fumbling through the doors, I released all my weight upon the receptionist counter spouting, “I need help…I think I’m having a heart attack”. Nurses responded quickly and got me to the back. They started asking questions calmly as the recorded my vitals. Almost instantly I could feel myself starting to calm down. My head began to clear but my anxiety was still through the roof. After several minutes of questions, a visit from a doctor, they hooked me up to an IV. Almost instantly, I felt better as a peaceful feeling bubbled softly through my veins.
I sat in this room for several minutes really enjoying the peace and quiet. Finally, a woman with a nice smile entered. She pulled up a chair next to mine and introduced herself. I can’t remember her name but she said she was a doctor, a psychiatrist. She asked me how I was doing and then asked me to explain what had happened that led me here on this day. After listening quietly she started to ask questions about how I was feeling about school, life and myself. I was quite comfortable with her and as I started to share my thoughts, I was overwhelmed with emotion…and started to cry, to sob uncontrollably. Everything just came out about my low self worth, anxiety, depression, and fears. This conversation never introduced cause, only affect. Therefore, bullying was never part of our discussion.
The doctor explained to me that I was physically fine but that I had probably experienced a “Panic Attack”. She didn’t get into much detail, but asked that I come in once a week to talk. Then she wrote out and returned with a prescription for Valium. Take one of these little yellow pills whenever you feel anxious, she said. Then she walked out. Twenty minutes later, I left clear-headed with a bottle of pills rattling in my pocket. Little did I know that I would need to hear that rattle for so many years to come.