My panic attacks became regular occurrences. I’d get upset about something someone did wrong, or about something I myself did wrong, and boom, the attack would start
I never had any reason to be depressed.
Other than my family moving to Eretz Yisrael when I was six I haven’t suffered any significant trauma in my life. My parents and siblings are wonderful stable people and my school experiences were generally positive.
Yet I was depressed practically from the time I was born. My parents remember me screaming for the first six months of my life. When I was a little girl if anything went the slightest bit wrong I felt deeply wounded. Whether I had a tussle with my sister or I did poorly on a test or my friends left me out of a secret I would retreat to my bed and sulk for hours. My parents would try to talk to me and soothe me but I wouldn’t answer them and they would get frustrated by my refusal — or inability — to explain what was wrong. I don’t know what I wanted them to do but whatever it was they weren’t doing it.
When I was 11 I started having panic attacks. These weren’t classic panic attacks in the sense that I didn’t feel afraid; I just felt completely overwhelmed. My heart would pound I would start shaking and sweating my limbs and face would go numb and I would have difficulty breathing. The first time this happened my parents thought I was having an allergic reaction. They rushed me to the hospital where I underwent extensive allergy testing all of which came back negative.
Create a free account to keep reading.
