Shortness of breath.
Hyperventilating.
Tears turn into silent crying which then turns into full blown sobbing.
Feeling like there is a massive knot in your chest.
Unable to think about anything else.
Obsess and obsess some more.
Hands shaking.
A pit in the bottom of your stomach.
Loss of appetite.
Nausea.
More shortness of breath and hyperventilation.
Imagine dealing with the things I listed above all at the same time.
This is what a normal panic attack looks like for me and often these attacks happen several times a day. I've missed class, I've said no to friends, and relationships in my life have started to dwindle away. But most people in my life probably don't know about my anxiety because honestly, I don't really talk about it. And why should I in today's culture?
In any case, I want to write about a particularly massive panic attack that I had today. Those who know me know that I tend to be a bit of a rebel and I'm really really opinionated. I grew up always learning to question authority and I've always been stubborn about things.
But today. Oh today. This morning was amazing. I caught up with a friend for a couple minutes and classes were fine. Then things started to go wrong and I completely broke down. After a particularly stressful meeting, the entire day changed.
I called my dad after the meeting and I broke down. I was hyperventilating and sobbing out of control for a couple minutes. We talked for a while and I did feel better after talking to him.
But even after hanging up, I couldn't stop crying. I can't accurately express in words how bad this panic attack was.
So after talking to my dad, I went to the one faculty/staff member that I completely trust on campus right now. And I ended up sobbing some more in her office.
After awhile, I stopped sobbing. Tears still silently and slowly ran down my face but I finally felt good enough to walk out of the professor's office. With hands shaking and my anxiety still out of control, I managed to convince myself that going to class was a good decision. I immediately regretted the decision as soon as I sat down and left during the break.
During the time I should have been in class, I started to calm down and started to think about why I was having such a bad panic attack.
It hit me out of nowhere.
I do not feel safe in any sense on campus anymore. And the worst thing is? In the midst of my panic attacks, anxiety, and exhaustion, I don't have the energy to change that right now.
All I can tell you dear reader is that I feel broken and defeated. I'm crushed and I'm so tired.
I'm tired of coming home and sobbing myself to sleep.
I'm tired of feeling alone and anxious.
I'm tired of standing up to the injustice simply because I am just so exhausted.
I'm tired of feeling like I have almost NO ONE in the faculty and staff to talk to about my issues. Because I do not have a personal relationship with ANY queer faculty or staff members. And that is what I need right now. I need a queer mentor that I can talk to on campus, someone that I can trust completely and will completely understand what I'm going through.
I am so tired of being the one to stand up. Why do I have to educate my professors?
I don't know how much more I can handle. My anxiety and panic attacks have gotten so much worse over the past couple of months. I cannot tell you how unsafe and unwelcome I feel on campus, which is really tragic because there are some really incredible people on campus that I know. And I know of some pretty amazing queer people off campus who are wonderful mentors that I look up to so much.
But not having a faculty or staff member on campus who is out and queer and thus understands where I'm coming from is incredibly hard. I don't feel like I have someone to turn too when I have days like today.
And that's really shitty.
