I recently had a bout of panic attacks. I didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, and didn’t take care of myself for three days.
When I finally started feeling better, I thought a lot about where I was ~6 years ago. I was hospitalized after an emergency surgery (IBD complication) over Christmas. I was in a lot of pain and really unsure of what was going on/what the next day would look like. But I was happy. I did everything I could to take care of myself and asked for help where I needed it. I focused on what I could still control and enjoy. I did not let my illness define me or take over my whole life, and I leaned on my friends/family for support.

Contrast that with this recent panic bender. I stayed in a dark house for three entire days. I didn’t talk to anyone. And I still haven’t told anyone about my panic disorder. In those three days, I didn’t give a shit about myself and didn’t even recognize myself in a mirror. I couldn’t focus on the good in my life, it’s like it didn’t exist. All I could do was try to calm myself down. When I was in the middle of an attack, it was a thousand negative thoughts per second, and when I was out of one, it was nothing. I might as well have been dead to the world. 

Even on my worst IBD days, I manage to live with some meaning/purpose. But with anxiety my QofL tanks to about 0 and it is so exhausting. It’s no way to live at all