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.