All Alone?

When I was younger I was molested by a family member. I was unsure at the time about what was wrong and right, but I soon began feeling extreme guilt about  my experiences. I would lie in bed with my legs crossed so no one could touch me, although I knew where I was was safe. I began feeling sick to my stomach because of my secret and eventually waited up for my mom and told her the deal. Turns out she never understood what I was trying to tell her. That was about a decade ago. Since then I developed crazy panic attacks and am a self-proclaimed panic disorder sufferer. My parents didn't know what was wrong with their middle-school aged child when I wouldn't go to bed or even sleep in it. (My bed was not where the molesting occurred) I spent the next few years trying to convince my parents that something was not quite right -- that I was dying on the inside from my panic. My wonderful mother was irate. In retrospect, she was only devastated that her baby was sick and she couldn't help. I eventually saw a psychiatrist and was prescribed medication (which I believed I didn't need... I was a kid still) I was awkwardly and sporadically taking the meds only to feel worse (duh!). I still hadn't heard what was wrong with me from anyone. I would just freak out... only at night.. and be terrified to throw up. I would feel heat crawl up my skin, but at the same time be cold, I would shake, cry, heart racing... the whole nine. I eventually figured out that I was suffering from panic attacks and told a health care professional. Finally the beast had a name. Although I felt like I was going through hell nightly, I hadn't realized that panic attacks five nights a week was extreme. I had been living with the attacks for so long, it just seemed like it couldn't get worse. I did some research and realized I met the criteria for panic disorder. I have never been officially diagnosed with it, but I definitely fit the profile (so to speak). Middle school and high school were both all lies. I would stay up until 5 in the morning, praying the sun would come up. I would usually pass out from exhaustion rather than fall asleep. No one at school knew anything was wrong. I would put on a big smile under my black-circled eyes and pretend I wasn't the freak I believed I was at home. I had superficial friends (high school, right?), but I never expressed to any of my peers how I was suffering. The attacks began to slow down as my graduation approached and I was on the brink of college. I guess I became too busy for the attacks to consume me. I'm now 21 years old and have been in college for four years. Everything became spiraling back when I tried to quit smoking cigarettes last year. Since then, my attacks occur a few times a month. This disorder is just so hopeless sometimes. I lie awake and just think. My mind goes and goes and goes. My childhood misfortunes have left me with a sickness that I may never shake. I can only continue to fight this battle, for what is the alternative? I know I am the one that has to work on this. I wish my husband-to-be could save me, gallantly rescue me from this terrifying disease... but I must do it. There is no other way. I'll continue to fight it if you will...

bethywethyinlove bethywethyinlove
2 Responses Apr 13, 2008

I read your experience and thought about describing my reaction, but the ones above just couldn'T do it.It is a terrifying nightmare what you've been through, but just writing it down I believe it did you well.I hope you will consider sharing more experiences with us.And don't give up fighting:)<br />

Have you tried talking to your husband about this?