According to the Anxiety and Depression Association of America, panic attacks include at least four of these symptoms:
- Fast heart rate
- Sweating
- Trembling or shaking
- Shortness of breath
- Feeling like you’re choking
- Chest pain
- Nausea
- Feeling dizzy or light-headed
- Tingling sensations
- Feeling detached from yourself
- Fear of “going crazy”
- Fear of dying
If you read through this list and imagine going through four of these symptoms, it sounds very dramatic—something you couldn’t hide. But the reality of panic attacks or anxiety attacks or whatever you want to call them is that they’re not always outwardly noticeable, to others or even to yourself. It took me a while to realize that some panic attacks are silent.
I’ll give you an example.
On Martin Luther King, Jr. Day I had the day off work. I decided to go to the Asian market and get some groceries to make a nice dinner. I picked up a bunch of bags of produce and wandered around the aisles looking for spices. When I finally made it to the register, I put the bags on the conveyor belt and realized with horror that the bags had been wrapped too tightly around my fingers, which had turned blue.
I began to panic. I turned white and began sweating profusely. I felt like I was going to throw up and faint at the same time. For a moment, I considered just leaving, but the cashier had begun to ring up my purchases so I stayed. I couldn’t stand up; I felt like I was going to pass out. I knelt down and held onto the counter as the cashier bagged my things. The woman standing behind me in line asked if I was ok and offered me water, which I took and sipped on, thankful but embarrassed. I took some deep breaths and steadied myself long enough to pay and flee quickly to my car where I sat for ten minutes decompressing, utterly exhausted.
That was a panic attack.
Here’s another example. On Christmas Eve last year, I had a panic attack during church. No one around me, including my mother sitting next to me, knew it was happening. From their eyes, I was sitting calmly in the pew, listening to the sermon. I did not hyperventilate. I did not pass out. I did not turn pale.
On the outside, I looked like everyone else, but on the inside, I was under attack. I was frozen in my seat. My mind raced, and I had trouble getting a deep breath. My stomach hurt and my vision blurred slightly. I felt as if I no longer had control over myself. It lasted for a few minutes as I silently told myself that I was ok, and then it passed.
That was also a panic attack.
See, anxiety is not always visible. Panic attacks aren’t always loud. Sometimes, you just feel frozen or slightly nauseous or like a weight is on your chest, and if you aren’t used to it, you may not even know that what you’re experiencing is anxiety. You might continue to experience these moments not knowing why or how to handle them, which might make them worse over time.
The fact is mental illness is not always noticeable. It’s not the stereotypical images that quickly come to mind…someone in a hospital gown screaming or a homeless person talking to himself as you walk by. It’s not a teenager in all black who doesn’t speak to anyone at school. Mental illness is a part of many people’s lives. Anxiety can affect anyone. The beautiful blonde singer might have anxiety attacks before performing. The wealthy businessman might not want to get out of bed in the morning because of his depression. The playful child might be battling with voices in her head.
If you’re sitting on the metro or watching TV or eating a sandwich, and all of a sudden you can’t move or can’t breath and don’t know why, believe that you will be ok. Know that what you’re experiencing might be a panic attack and having one doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t make you sick or disabled. It doesn’t make you a bad person. It just makes you human.
Reach out if you’ve ever experienced a “silent” panic attack and share this post with someone. If we keep the conversation going, mental illness will no longer be something to be embarrassed about at the Asian market checkout counter.
