It seemed innocent enough. We had got high a couple of times before, and tonight since we were bored we'd do it again. It wasn't to be "cool" and it wasn't because of peer pressure. I was 19 and my friend and I didn't have anything else better to do. As we did mostly every night, we started walking the streets. This time we were lucky enough to have pot on us and bought cigars to use the cigar wrappers as joints (I didn't care for bongs). While we walked, we took hits and got high.
I don't know when I started to space out, or when I stopped hearing my friend's voice, and I swear to you I don't remember talking back to him for at least a half a mile. I was in my own little world. Then all of a sudden, *BANG* I felt like I was floating and being lifted up to heaven. I remember thinking that I must be dead, and this is what it feels like to be dead. My feet, however, felt like anchors holding me down and my head felt like a balloon, wanting to float up into the sky. I thought it was going to explode from the pressure. I looked over at my friend and couldn't see him straight - I couldn't see anything straight. My first thought was that I was going crazy and then - no - I thought I was going to die from something in the pot. My heart was pounding, I felt disconnected from my body and I couldn't feel my legs. This had never happened before.
I went home and went straight to my room. I was hyperventilating and I had to use my air conditioner to help me breathe. When I couldn't take not seeing right anymore, I told my mom that I needed to get to the hospital and I was checked into the emergency room. I remember the doctor telling my horrified mother that the bed had restraints in case they were needed. I thought that was funny and scary at the same time. They could find nothing wrong with me, and no other drugs in my system and I was released.
The next few weeks (years) was pure hell for me. After the pot wore off, I still felt disconnected from my body and still had heart palpitations and would have massive, incredibly scaring panic attacks that no one could possibly understand. I stayed in my room most of the time and slept because sleeping was an escape from the mental pain and because my mind was exhausted from the constant pressure. I wanted to sleep forever, literally.
I wish I could tell you that all of this just went away, but it hasn't. It's a beast that's still inside of me, weakened by anti-anxiety medication - but it's still there. Millions of people suffer from panic disorder and panic attacks. A large percentage of those will only have one or two in their lifetime, but for people like me, there are 3 options - get help, live with it, or kill yourself. Many people just can't live with it.
I'm not saying to stay away from drugs. I liked getting high. I would probably still be doing it if this didn't happen (although pot DOES make you stupid). I'm just saying that sometimes drugs open a part of your mind, whether it's a creative side, a dark side or a mental illness that you never knew about. This is something I live with day to day. I'm not "crazy" because I have to take prescription drugs for my illness, I'm crazy naturally. My advice for people who think they might have this is to get help. There is no reason to live with the constant anxiety and worrying that you are going crazy or going to die.
Signs of a panic attack
- difficulty breathing, feeling as though you 'can't get enough air'
- terror that is almost paralyzing
- dizziness, lightheadedness or nausea
- trembling, sweating, shaking
- hot flashes, or sudden chills
- tingling in fingers or toes ('pins and needles')
- fear that you're going to go crazy or are about to die
