The Time I had a Panic Attack and no one Gave a Flying Fuck.

I’m happy as someone with anxiety to say I have had very few attacks although they all seem to happen in the most embarrassing places; in Boots, on the street and on public transport. Sometimes I’m with friends who try to help and other times I’m on my own crying and trying to look like a normal human and less like a hysterical vampire.(Sorry been thinking a lot about how pale I am. A story for another time perhaps.)

On this occasion I was at home in bed, my usual safe place, and my sister and brother came in drunk. Now my siblings are all in their thirties so the fact that they were staying at their mothers and walking in drunk at three am was enough to annoy me.

 

To add context to my attack I have a fear of drunks and an extreme reaction to arguments/fights. This all originating from my Dad and Mum. My Dad being an alcoholic and both of them having horrific fights since I was young.

 

So when my Brother who I had previously been estranged from found out something he didn’t like an argument ensued.

 

The climax of this fight for me is stumbling out of my room in tears and hardly being able to breath.

 

I hold my chest as my Mum storms away and I tell her as clearly as possible that ‘I’m having an anxiety attack’. To which she tells me to come into her room. In her room I sit on her Bathroom floor crying and clutching my chest as my mum tells me to get in bed. (Not in the most soothing tone)

 

I sit in her bed for sometime and then leave retreating to me somewhat safe space. My bedroom.

 

The next day people are missing and no discussing is had. Later on my brother apologises to my mother and I’m left to reflect on the fact that I was in extreme emotional distress and no one gave a shit.

 

My Family seem to be this paradox of wanting me to get help but not wanting to know anything about how I feel or wanting to understand my Mental Illness.

 

Luckily for me I have amazing friends who are happy to listen to my distress.

 

This event has somewhat distanced me from my family even more. I don’t feel like I can go to them when I’m sad, I seem to only be confronted with anger and a sense of selfishness that really isn’t helpful.

 

I suppose my hope would be that I could speak to my family about anything but I’ve also excepted the fact that this will never happen.

 

I’ve always felt somewhat out of place in my family but does that mean I should feel unable to reveal all of my self to my family?

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