Last Thursday, I had one of my typical panic attacks. These are triggered when I can’t get ahold of my mom and I’m convinced something has happened to her. It’s catastrophizing of the worst sort where I live out my worst nightmare over and over again. After going through this specific panic attack (where, again, my mom was just fine and all of that panicking was for naught), I thought maybe it would be a cathartic exercise for me to write out everything I experienced. I wanted to walk through all of the thoughts that were racing through my head as well as the physical symptoms I experienced during this panic attack. It was hard to write about this, but ultimately, it gives people a glimpse into the world of mental illness and just how our brain can really work against us when we’re going through a panic attack like this.

1:06pm: I Facetime my mom. No answer.

At this point, I’m not panicking. She might be in a meeting. She’ll call me back soon.

1:30pm: I just remembered that her work bestie was supposed to be in the office that day. Duh. They probably went out for lunch and she couldn’t text me to say she’d call me back later. She’ll probably call or text me when she’s back in the office.

2:54pm: Still no call from mom. That’s a little strange, but not out of the ordinary. Sometimes she gets busy at work and forgets to call me back, although she’ll usually send me a text when she’s too busy to answer the phone.

Let me check her location… just to be on the safe side and make sure she’s at work.

… Weird. Her phone’s location is at home.

With this information, my chest gets really warm and tight and my heart starts to race. Why is her phone at home? I need to call her again.

2:55pm: Second Facetime. No answer.

The spiraling thoughts are rampant now. Did she leave her phone at home? She usually emails me to let me know when that happens. She told me yesterday that she’s been really tired this week. Maybe she went home and is napping. That’s probably the most logical answer. Or maybe the worst has finally happened and she died in her sleep. Okay, let’s think about this logically, Steph. She’s in good health, has a lower resting heart rate than you, and gets bloodwork done regularly. Plus, if she wasn’t at work, someone would reach out to me, I would think. I know some of her coworkers. And this was the day that M was supposed to be in the office so they’d know something was up immediately. Plus, wouldn’t Robert figure something was wrong if she didn’t get up in the morning? But maybe he did and he was dealing with calling 911 and she’s in the hospital and he forgot his phone and couldn’t call me to tell me what is going on. (And knowing Robert like I do, this scenario is not too far from reality.)

2:56pm: I text her, “Can you call me?” Thankfully, she has read receipts so I’ll be able to see when she looks at the text.

I try to focus on work, but I can’t. My body is a mess, my thoughts are swirling. My phone isn’t a distraction for me. Instagram makes my anxiety worse and just makes me angry because here is everyone, going about their days like everything is normal when I might be going through my worst day ever! I don’t want to turn on a podcast or play a game on my phone. I just want to stay in this high anxiety state. Distractions just make everything feel worse. It’s like I feel safer in the anxiety spiral than I do outside of it. Is this the fight, flight, or freeze response and I’ve just decided to freeze and let all of the anxiety seep into every part of my body?

In my body right now, my stomach feels like it’s twisted in knots and my chest still feels tight and warm. But I’m also chilly and at one point, my teeth start to chatter. If I had been wearing my Apple watch, it would have been interesting to see my heart rate during this spiral. I’m finding it hard to breathe deeply and I’m nauseated. I feel like I could throw up at any moment. I’ve never experienced this level of nausea during a panic attack, and it makes me worried. Is this a signal? Is my body trying to tell me that the bad thing really did happen and that’s why I feel like throwing up? 

I can’t work in this state, so I go into my room and lie down on my bed. Maybe I can force myself to nap and take a break from all of the worst-case scenarios that are spiraling through my brain. But I can’t nap. Every time I close my eyes, I think of bad things. I think of getting a call from Robert. I think of telling my brother. I think of sitting in a funeral home and making preparations. I think of taking care of Chip and Lucy. I think of writing about this day on my blog. I think of driving by my mom’s work and not seeing her car in her spot. I think of driving to her house and rushing inside to her room. I think of the last message I would ever send to her being “Can you call me?” I think of the fact that I am reading a book that I am really loving but the book deals with a woman’s mom dying, and I won’t be able to finish my book. I think about canceling the dinner plans I have tonight. I think about how I’d never be able to go to my favorite HIIT class ever again because it would be permeated with memories of my mom.

In this moment, I do try to calm myself with logical thoughts. It’s rare for someone who is healthy to die in their sleep (but it happens…). If she wasn’t at work, someone would reach out to me (but would they?). Robert would notice something was wrong if she was still in bed in the afternoon (I mean, maybe but would he think to call me?!). It’s hard to think logically right now when my anxiety brain wants to counteract every logical point.

I just lay in bed and stare at my phone, waiting for that text message receipt to change from, “Delivered,” to “Read at 3:xx p.m.” I will the phone to ring. Again and again and again.

3:25pm: The nap isn’t helping so I try to do some work again. There’s a project I need to do that will take exactly zero brain power and so I work on that. I’m still spiraling and it crosses my mind to reach out to a friend and tell them what’s going on, but I don’t feel like ruining their day with my craziness and also don’t feel like hearing anything logical. For some reason, it feels easier and safer to stay in this high-anxiety state. And what if they’re wrong? What if they try to comfort me and they are wrong?

I tell myself I will do a wellness check if I haven’t heard from my mom by 4:00. I will drive by her work to see if her car is there and if not, I’ll go to her house. But the more I thought about doing that, the scarier it felt. What if her car wasn’t at work? What would I see if I went to her house? What would it feel like to leave my apartment knowing I might come back to it a completely different person? I couldn’t do it. I was paralyzed with fear.

It occurs to me at some point to check my Instagram Stories. I had posted two stories that day, one in the morning and one a few hours later. If I could see that my mom watched the stories, then that could give me some semblance of relief! So I look and I can see that my mom watched my first story but not my second one. Okay, so she was alive as of 7 hours ago! At this point, the anxiety starts to calm down a little. I start to feel like my most logical explanation, that she had left work early and was taking a nap, was the correct one.

3:53pm: I get a text. I race to pick up my phone to see who it is… and it is not my mom. It’s Mikaela texting me about our writing date on Saturday. This would be a good time to tell her that I’m spiraling, but I don’t. But all I can think is, “I don’t know if I can do writing on Saturday! I might be planning a funeral!” I finally text her back 10 minutes later with, “Sure.”

4:23pm: My mom Facetimes me back. She’s fine. She went home from work early and took a nap because she wasn’t feeling great.

As always, it is the most logical answer.

These anxiety spirals are nothing new for me and while I understand why they happen (my mom is my safe place, she was my safe harbor in a rocky childhood), I still wish I could stop the spiral from happening. I wish I could be logical about why she’s not calling me back because 100% of the time, it has not been because she’s dead. But bad things happen. People die in their sleep. I’m not going to look up the percentage of people that happens to because I don’t need to know, but bad things happen unexpectedly.

And believe me, I have talked extensively about these panic attacks during many therapy appointments. It’s been the main focus of therapy – figuring out why I get like this and how I can bring myself down when it happens. I know I am not being logical, but I can’t seem to break myself out of the cycle of catastrophizing. The worst-case scenario can happen. It happens to people every day. Why wouldn’t it happen to me? Why am I so lucky?

Life is a friggin terrifying thing when you think about it. Loving people is scary. I feel so lucky to have the relationship I have with my mom. She is my true soulmate and someone I feel connected to on the deepest level. Not everyone gets to experience a love as deep and abiding as this, and I feel grateful for it every day. But we all have these relationships. We all have people in our lives where we would be irrevocably different if something happened to them. Our lives would change in dramatic ways, and we would lose that safety net we feel about having a person we’re connected to on a soul-deep level alive and well. I know bad things happen every day and to all sorts of people, and I am very, very glad I wasn’t one of those people last Thursday. I just wish my brain didn’t make me go through every scary scenario as if I were.