Kathy Trithardt's Blog

Not too long ago, I had a pretty terrible day.

You probably wouldn’t know it if you were one of the several people I interacted with that day. There was friendship and laughter and other events that I won’t name, as I don’t want the day to be widely recognizable. If you think you were there on this day, feel free to message me privately to ask and I will answer as honestly as I can.

You see, on this day, I experienced a 12 hour panic attack, the effects of which I can still feel today.

I had a 12 hour panic attack and this is the first anyone is hearing of it. No one knew.

I’ve only ever experienced one other attack of this type, many years ago, and unsurprisingly it was a very similar situation. Many elements of if were identical. It involved a common human, but they didn’t intentionally inflicted any pain on me. It is my belief they have no idea anything was wrong. That doesn’t change the fact that my chest cavity was convinced it was filled with shattered glass. Sometimes it still thinks it is.

When I panic, there is no fight or flight. Instead of attacking, I grow quieter. Instead of running, I find myself unable to move any more than what is socially acceptable. I freeze up. I endure what is happening. My mind fights for a very long time to do anything about it, because I don’t want to be the reason fun times end. I don’t want to draw negative attention to myself. I have a need for privacy when I am at my most vulnerable, and don’t think I am alone in this impulse.

Knowing bottling up wasn’t the long term solution, I worked up the courage over several hours to reach out to the friend via text, indicating that I needed to talk to them. We were in the same space when I sent the text, and initially it seemed as though we’d get the moment I needed to confide in them that I was coming undone and what I would need now and in the future to avoid this happening again.

Unfortunately, we never did get to talk. Once I was finally alone for longer than the few minutes here and there where I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and begged myself not to cry, not to make eye contact, to just get through everything, I sobbed so hard I worried the neighbours would hear me. Even in this release, I worried about my impact on others over myself.

If I can offer any advice, it’s this: if your quiet friend asks you to talk, they really do need to talk. A lack of communication could be the further isolation that re-enforces the notion that nobody cares. When you are already feeling alone, it doesn’t take much for that feeling to snowball.

Despite being around people this entire day, I have never felt so alone. This is not entirely new, but the intensity of it was staggering. Here are a few notes I wrote to myself on my phone during this attack, under the guise of checking social media:

“I think that if I just continue to sit here, no one will notice until they want something within five feet of me.



I could lay down and no one will notice until they get up. Let’s try.

[After several minutes.]

Yeah, no one cares.



Just never make eye contact and no one will know you are dying inside.



If I could run without attracting pity with my motion…”

I also remember thinking, although wouldn’t let myself write down, that this situation was worse than the prospect of walking into the sea.

Obviously, I survived the experience, but it is far from being resolved. It distracts me constantly. It has affected my sleep, my appetite, my energy, my mood. I just want to talk it out with the person who unintentionally triggered this PTSD nightmare, but don’t know when or if that will happen.

If someone reaches out, talk to them. Even if you are on a time limit, let them know that and ask if they need you to follow up later. Chances are they won’t ask anyone else for help once they feel rejected.

I don’t write this out of blame, but out of love. No one can know for sure what is happening in anyone’s head. I felt compelled to share this experience in case it might help someone. I share this out of love for those who are struggling and don’t know if they have support, love for those who are able to give support, and out of love for myself, because I need to remember to care for myself even if it feels like no one else does.

In 2016, I thought long and hard about starting a specific project. Originally, I wanted it to last a month, but couldn’t seem to find one upcoming calendar month in which it would work easily.

I then realized that the project wasn’t supposed to be easy. It was supposed to be a challenge, so why half-ass it? I decided it would last all of 2017, mostly because I was about to come up with a name for it that I liked and thought sounded good: Sober ’17.

That’s right! One December 1st of last year, I announced my intention to not drink alcohol for an entire calendar year. The morning after the ball dropped, I reflected on why it was easier (both as an introvert and as someone becoming sober) to skip being out and about at midnight. I’ve marvelled at how easy this challenge has been so far, mostly because I did some work leading up to it, but already have some disappointment that I can’t try the local brew with traveling to Boston later this month. I reflected that wine has been half of my go-to self medication on a monthly basis, and thought of some ways around it. I shared my fear about doing silly or untoward things while being tipsy. I’ve even pondered about the conversational shorthand our society uses, in which “drinking” tends to mean “drinking alcohol,” and made some random, off-the-top-of-my-head hypothesises as to why that might be.

All of this is to say that I am writing again, and hope to continue writing about this sobriety throughout the year, so if this topic (or it’s intersections) interest you, take a look. All blog posts for the first month of the project are linked above.

Cheers.

OctPoWriMo #12

Today was about absorbing words

So they might mingle with my soul

And I wasn’t ready to part with

A single syllabol

OctPoWriMo #13

Awake an hour now

And my vision is blurry

A nap is the human version of

Turn it off and on again

Although it is well before noon

I am considering this option;

There’s no sun anyway.

OctPoWriMo #11

I’m phoning it in

I need to get out of bed

Here is a hiaku

OctPoWriMo #10

I know you try

To have a low

Operating cost

But my experience

Would be much better

If I didn’t have to

Strip this top bunk bed

At 6am

In the dark

Without waking others.

I’ve worked in a hostel –

This is much easier after check out

OctPoWriMo #9

Funny how bunk beds are fine

They are even expected

(Although I’ve slept on far better)

And a lack of personal lighting

Or power plugs is fine…

But as soon as there is no wifi

And breakfast starts hours later

Than when I am awake

Due to how uncomfortable

The aforementioned bunk beds are

– the breakfast and wifi are what

Put this hostel on my

Not Again list.

OctPoWriMo #8

Everyone leaves the light on past midnight

As I get lost in parody fanfiction

And drunk bunkmates return way later

Thinking they are whispering

Or simply forgetting other people exist

I’m up before the sun

Fueled by excitement and strange noises

And can’t wait to spend all day with geeks.

#ggc16 starts today!

OctPoWriMo #7

Rippled clouds

Tears of joy

Dancing in place

Adorable cursing

Giggles turn to heartfelt cackles

Tissues tucked in bodice

An audience four time zones away

Gorgeous love

Congrats, Laura and Jen. Thank you for letting me Skype into your wedding.

OctPoWriMo #6

Sunless sky

Unmoving body

Finally fed

Only to eject nutrients.

Until the sun returns

Life under thick,

Yet thin on oxygen, air

Causing untold challenges

OctPoWriMo #5

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer

The floor vent hisses heat

The book spin cracks as pages turn

The words behind a closed door audible

But indistinguishable over the floor roar

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer–

And a sudden lack of sound floods in

Noises outside amplified

Distant music taking over the void

The spine cracks once more as the chapter ends