I can honestly say anxiety ruined my life. Yea, I had some fun here, and there, but anxiety really held me back.

I all stemmed from one huge panic attack on Christmas Eve. I remember coming home from my father's house. Normal Irish blue collar Christmas. We were all
drinking. Not drunk--Irish don't get drunk--we can handle the booze--with the exception of our livers. We we just having a good time. I did have a cup of coffee before I drove home.

I got home, and went to the bathroom--looked into the mirror. I was thinking about the enevilibility of death. I thought about Christmas card my dad gave me. "Happy Christmas! Doctor, PhD. Masters, BS, etc." My father didn't approve of my education. He didn't feel anyone who was in school added to society. What's ironic is I kinda agreed with him, and validated his views--just to please the man. I use to tell him--all this school--all this money, and I look back and maybe I had eight amazing classes in college. (I don't know why my father didn't want me to go to school, he didn't pay a dime. I sometimes thing he wanted me to be just as happy, and fulfilled as he was in life, but no more?

I thought about a student who died of a cerebral hemorrhage. I thought about the fragility of the human anatomy system. I thought "What makes me different than the guy who popped a vessel riding his bike, with his cute wife?" (Edipal issues too?)

I picked at a pimple? I noticed my hair did look poofy. My sister was big on hair conditioners.

It was around 12:30 p.m.--and click. I thought I heard an artery in my head explode.

The room started to change dimensions. The room became larger--then smaller. The wall paper started to move slightly. My body went hay wire. I was a nervous wreck. An fews hour of hell went by, and I somehow got to sleep.

The next morning I woke up, and at least I was still on this earth. I walked down the hallway, and the nervous started up.

The nervousness went on for years, and years. I got to a point where I could leave the house, or deal with humans, without two 187ml splits of wine.

I did a year's worth of therapy. I found a therapist out of the Yellow Pages. I paid for the therapy with the rest of my student loans, and some nefarious activities.

The therapy did nothing other than squash the thought, "Maybe I should have seen an Therapist?" The therapy actually did some damage--I believe, but you should probally find out for yourselfs? (Oh, yea most doctors won't give you any drug without you wasting time with a therapist. That is if your not connected, or come from a wealthy family. It's a hellish system.)

I finally found a Psychiatrist whom would give me more that a weeks worth of Valium. He was my fifth Psychiatrist. He gave me Klonopin. It really helped, but I'm still on it 20 years later. I believe it's a good drug though. It has a long half life, and is not expensive anymore.

While the drug helped--it only helped a bit.

I still needed to drink in order to feel straight.

Over the years I fried all the Hetro/tri-cyclic drugs; like Prozac, and Paxil, elevil, etc. and at least ten others.

None of them worked in the slightest! They were all a waste of money, and time for myself. I cried when I read that study on the history of Proxac, and what Eli-Lilly did to deceive. Literally cried!

I should probally back up a bit. Right before the major panic attack, I was in a graduate school.
I had problems with the school, and some students. I didn't feel they were being honest with themself's, or the science we were learning. The school got their money, the students would all have good paying jobs in a few years. It bothered me that no one was looking for the truth, or efficacy of what they were learning. I learned then, and it still hold true; When it comes to fininancial outlay, financial future--students and teachers go into denial. They stop looking for the Truth. It's nothing new, it's called denial. I didn't have that denial at the time. I was too focused on fining the truth, and accepting its consequences. My personal life was not great, but I was still seeing people. I wasen't happy, but who's happy in their 20's? I did have few warning signs of potential problems ahead. I felt I might have a brain tumor. (I had this weird head pain, since I left high school. Looking back, it was all psychosomatic.) I further felt like I could prevent a serious disease by being extremely healthy. I once got my total cholesterol down 120.

Back to hell, while the drug helped--it only helped a bit.

I still needed to drink in order to feel straight.

I don't have anything to say about anxiety. I know I have never met one other person who had my exact symptomology. I've met some who were worse, and some who just had one panic attack. When they do these studies; I wish they would find people who really have these afflictions--I know it's hard, and not financially feasible.

Anxiety, in some people, can ruin lives. I am close to being homeless because of it. No--I'm not bad enough for disability. That's the rub. In some situations I'm the best guy in the room. Other days, I can't walk into the room. Mental illness is still hidden malady. How is some politician suspose to understand what these malidities feel like when even health professionals really don't seem to get it?

If you are suffering from anxiety, try to only drink to curb anxiety attacks. Two/three drinks will usually stop an anxiety attack.

Don't become an alcoholic. Save that liver for rough patches ahead. You won't be able to drink like your buddies. They don't need to drink to feel sane. The anxiety symptoms will lessen with age. You life might be a shambles, but the feelings just lesson. Hang in there. I sometimes feel life is just not worth living, but something always brings me around. Not necessarily something--just brain chemistry seems to come into start playing--nice, nice? Who knows--sometimes I think they are focusing on the wrong organ. Maybe the adrenal glands? Who knows?

The only benefit I can see of my psychological faults is I truly care about anyone who's in pain. Before the breakdown, I didn't truely understand why certain people lived the way they do. I didn't understand why he wasn't working. Why isn't he making money. Making money is pretty easy for guys like me? What's wrong with them? Or they lazy? Do that have delusions of grandure?

I now don't judge people like I use too. To be honest I was never that critical of people. I'm just more understanding now. That whole, "Walk a mile in a man's shoes." I truly think about that, if I about to cast judgment.

Good luck! Keep an eye out for that friend/family member who's in hell. Try to be supportive?

Merry Christmas!