There wasn’t a single place I could go during a rainstorm and feel safe. There wasn’t a single place in that damn office where I could allow my panicky feelings to de-escalate.

Each downpour filled the entire office with an ambient white noise that spiked my adrenaline level. When it rained, I couldn’t sit still.

After all, aren’t the thoughts helping to protect me? Aren’t they helping me to seek relief from the situation?

How do you cope with the sting of having a panic attack after a long period of panic-free living?

Not having a sense of control is a huge underlying component for many of my (and perhaps your!) panic attacks. But my phone gives me a sense of control — is this a good thing or a bad thing?

You know that an evil clown might jump out of the closet. You know that a sudden burst of evil laughter will probably pipe out of an overhead speaker. You don’t know the precise nature of what’s about to scare you, but you’re anticipating something — anything — nonetheless.

To make the past few days more tolerable, I’ve been hitting up the medicine cabinet — but staying mindful about what I put into my body. Like many other panic sufferers, I’m always a bit nervous when I take any sort of medicine. What if it makes me hyper? What if it makes me nervous? What if it makes me panic?

Check out those sweet shades they gave me so that I wouldn’t get toothdust in my eyes. In combination with all of that dental stuff coming out of my mouth, I sort of look bionic.

At 5:30 this morning, I found myself curled up with a bathrobe and a rug.

I’ve often tried to compare the mental distress of panic with listening to several songs layered one on top of another. Song #1 represents one symptom. Song #2 represents another. Song #3 represents still another. Taken as a whole unit, the experience is disturbing and unnerving. But today, I found a single solitary song that comes pretty darn close to representing how a panic attack feels to me.