Panic attacks are always so exciting. Especially when you can’t really pin down the source of them. I’ve been prone to occasional bouts of panic and anxiety attacks for as long as I can remember. On average, these spells would last about a week. Just one week of freaking out over anything and everything, unable to find comfort in even the smallest of pleasures.
When I was a kid, they usually happened some time during the first month of summer vacation. Most likely it was due to some mix of not seeing many of my friends for a few months (most people jetted off some place for summer, while I was home) and starting a new school year. Plus, the reality of finishing the previous year really sunk in by then. When exactly did it start? I don’t remember. I don’t know what exactly caused it.
I do have a vague memory of myself as an eight year old, bursting into tears while playing a board game with my brother. Apparently I was really upset that in the year 2000, I’d be an old man. Needless to say, other than the odd creaking joint, that hasn’t happened as yet. But this was a big enough concern to reduce me to incoherent blubbering, even though my family assured me that I had nothing to worry about. Why did that thought occur to me and affect me so strongly? I think I may have seen something on TV about the year 2000 or the future or something and it scrambled my impressionable young mind, but I cannot say for sure.
In adulthood, these attacks were much less frequent, but still showed up now and again. And I’m currently going through another round right now, triggered by some unknown source. As always, I expect this whole thing to last a week, after which things should go back to normal. I’m trying to speed up the process, of course, as I always do, but things usually play out in their own way.