Mental Health: Our kids are struggling, and I need them to know they’re not alone.

I had my first panic attack when I was 17. I was sitting in a conference room in Idyllwild on a peer counseling retreat watching my friends put on a show. Out of nowhere my heart began to race and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I was dying. It felt like the sky was literally about to crash down on me. I frantically looked around the room, sure that everyone around me knew that I was totally freaking out.

I had no idea what it was. It shook me to my core. As suddenly as it came, it passed. But I would experience these feelings again and again for years. When I went away to college (not too far from home, just 30 minutes away, because I was terrified), things got worse. My panic attacks became so severe that I was terrified to talk to anyone, even family and close friends. When I spoke to people, sometimes my mind would go completely blank, I couldn’t focus my eyes, my heart raced, and I couldn’t breathe. So I spent a lot of time hiding in my dorm room. I drank a lot of alcohol. I experimented with drugs. I was desperate to escape these terrifying feelings. (Hint - alcohol and drugs actually make things worse despite a temporary reprieve).

My passion was (and still is) singing. I wanted to be a professional singer, and enrolled to be a music minor. But my panic attacks killed that dream. I had a panic attack in the middle of my final performance evaluation, cried, and walked out mid-song. I dropped music as a minor.

It wasn’t until after I graduated from college that I finally spoke to a therapist. I had moved back home after suffering from a panic attack so severe and long lasting that I hadn’t slept for five days. I started taking Celexa and discussing what was happening with a professional.

It changed my life.

I learned about the human body’s fight or flight response, and that the feelings and thoughts I was experiencing were a normal physiological fear response happening at a totally inappropriate time. Subconsciously, my brain detected a threat, and my body reacted. Yoga, medication, and therapy became a new part of my routine, and I started to see things differently.

Then my mom got really sick. She was diagnosed with a glioblastoma, stage-4 brain cancer that had a grim prognosis. I stayed at home and took care of her until she passed away 15 months later.

It was the first real devastating loss of my life. Despite the pain of losing my mom, it brought me incredible perspective. Watching someone die has a way of forcing you to understand what is important in life. Seeing how life ends and that we are all mortal made me realize I didn’t want to waste my life hiding from everything that scared me (which included basic conversations with friends at that time).

If I could die at any moment, I’d better start living and facing my fears. So I did. I moved to DC to go to law school a few weeks after my mom passed away. This was huge for a girl who stayed as close to home as possible for college.

I graduated law school and started practicing law as a litigator in a downtown law firm. Litigation means you argue cases in front of a judge and rooms full of people. Odd choice for a person who experiences panic attacks, right? During my first trial, a panic attack hit me while I was making my opening statement. A partner was standing next to me. My mind went completely blank, my jaw locked, I couldn’t feel my hands. Thankfully, I had a very detailed outline and was able to read it to the judge. I had no idea what I was saying.

Afterward, I told the partner I had a panic attack. He told me he had no idea. At my second trial, I got a lot more speaking time. I learned to work through the panic, and just keep breathing and speaking. It kept getting easier with each exposure.

After I had my first son, I got an opportunity to join a local cover band. Despite this being a dream of mine, it also scared the absolute crap out of me. I quickly learned that I had to stop caring about what other people thought of me. I was doing something that brought me joy and entertained other people. If I panicked, screwed up, forgot a lyric, missed a verse, it didn’t matter! Singing live has been one of the most joyous and freeing experiences of my life. I am an old lady now and will never make it as a pro, but it’s the joy that matters. Singing is what makes me feel the most alive. I am so grateful to have the music background and education I have (thank you public school).

So here I am, a person who still gets panic attacks (they are much more mild now with medication, therapy, and meditation), running for public office and doing a lot of public speaking. I never thought I would get here. If you told me I would be doing this back when I was a terrified college student hiding in my dorm, I never would have believed you.

I have learned to do what scares me regardless of the fear. If I run away from something that scares me, I will be hiding forever and miss out on some really joyful and incredible experiences. I am so grateful for the mental health professionals and physicians in my life who have helped me to get to this place.

If you or your loved one is struggling with anxiety or depression, please know you are not alone. I know how terrifying it can be. Our community has been decimated by policies that exacerbated the already prevalent mental health issues our kids are struggling with. We need to restore our community connections and bring back all of the activities that bring us joy and enrichment - music, art, sports, free play. These are the things that bring joy, connection, and make life worth living.

If you ever want to talk to me about what I’ve experienced, I’m an open book. If my story helps just one person, it will have been worth telling. Please, encourage your loved ones to talk to a professional if they are struggling. I know what it is like to feel so terrified that you feel you can’t tell anyone what’s going on. They need to know they are not alone, and it gets better.