A Golden Cure: My Journey Through Panic with Paws by My Side

Finding solace in the comfort of four paws during my first panic attack

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The day started like every other.

I woke up to the paws of my golden retriever tapping the side of the bed.

I’m usually a morning person, but on this day, I felt so tired.

Depleted tired.

It had been the most intense week of my life.

I’d spent the day earlier in court applying for an intervention order against my daughter’s bully.

You can read about how and why here:

In my brain, the situation was behind me. We were finally able to move forward.

I should have felt clarity. I should have felt healed.

I only felt tired.

Exhausted.

That morning, I had to take my two daughters to their orthodontist appointment before dropping them off at school.

Like all mornings in the car with teenagers, they had the radio blaring with some Taylor Swift song, and in between the bickering between the two, they were singing at the top of their lungs.

All normal. Everything was the same as every other day.

I was still so tired.

While driving to their appointment, I couldn’t sing along.

I couldn’t get enough air into my body.

I passed it off as just the anxious feeling of running late for the 8 am appointment.

Usually, when the girls have their orthodontist appointments, I sit with them while their braces are adjusted.

I had to sit outside. I needed some fresh air.

Breathing was getting more complicated.

The girls attend two different schools.

I dropped my oldest off first.

Usually, this kid doesn’t identify how other people are feeling.

She looked at me as she climbed out of the car and asked if I was okay.

“I’m just really tired.”

She could see it was more than that and told me to return to bed after dropping her sister off at school.

I set off to my other daughter’s school, and it was the longest 10 minutes of my life.

The traffic was terrible. Where there was a red light, we got stuck at it.

My hands started to feel numb, like pins and needles.

I tried to take deep breaths.

Still, the air would not reach the ground of my lungs where I needed it.

Feeling light-headed, I made it to the gates of my other daughter’s school.

She said goodbye, and I drove off like a bat out of hell.

Our house is a precise 8-minute drive from the school.

Those 8 minutes it took me to drive home felt like 8 hours.

My hands were still numb, and it now felt like my arms were starting to feel the same.

My throat was starting to get tingly.

I drove past a doctor’s surgery and a hospital en route home.

The thought to stop and see what was wrong with me didn’t even occur.

All I could think about was getting home as fast as I could.

Again, every red light.

By now, my arms and throat were so tingly I could barely breathe. I needed to talk to someone.

I called my mom.

My mother is not a warm and fuzzy woman. However, she is practical and clear-headed in chaotic times.

She told me to breathe in for eight counts and breathe out for four.

I tried.

She told me to place my hands on my stomach and try to feel the deep breaths entering and exiting my body.

I tried.

She told me to focus on getting home and sitting with my dog, Chewy. She said sitting with him would calm me.

I started to cry.

Not just any cry but heaving, breathless, hyperventilating crying.

I’m not someone who cries often.

I never have been.

My go-to release of pent-up emotion is usually anger or rage.

Even as a child, I felt like crying never achieved much for me. If anything, it delayed the outcome I was so hoping for.

Crying was a waste of time.

As an adult, I now know more about emotions and how important it is to let them out.

Swallowing feelings and pushing them to the back of a spare area in my mind only helps for so long.

Sooner or later, those repressed feelings are going to come back.

And on this day, they arrived with an entire ticker-tape parade.

I made it home, still crying.

I raced inside and lay on the floor, trying to take deep breaths while tears ran down my face.

My dog, Chewy, who I love more than anything else, sat beside me.

He had a look of concern in his eyes.

As I began to pat him, he started to lick the tears off my cheeks.

When I couldn’t get deep breaths inside of me, I removed my hands from his back to place them on my stomach so I could feel the breaths.

Chewy placed his paw on my leg.

Chewy kept pawing me. He kept licking my tears.

Chewy was comforting me and successfully calming me down.

I could feel the oxygen taking effect. As I continued to pat him, the numbness in my arms and hands dissipated.

As he licked my tears, I could feel my throat again.

I don’t know how long we sat on the floor together, but Chewy never left my side.

After I had regained all feeling back into my body and was breathing normally again, I felt depleted of energy and quite scared about the experience I had just had.

I needed to try to understand what had just happened to me.

I picked up my phone and started searching for a term to name the symptoms I had just experienced.

A panic attack.

I’d never had a panic attack before, and anyone I knew who may have had one had never spoken about it enough for me to understand how it felt to have one.

The Mental Health Australia website has a list of all the symptoms a person experiencing a panic attack might feel:

I had experienced every symptom on this list.

The Mental Health First Aid Australia website, also listed the steps for supporting someone who may be experiencing a panic attack.

The website was a helpful resource. However, it was step two that resonated with me the most:

These instructions resonated with me because I realized my dog, Chewy, had been a calming presence.

In his own doggy way, he was reassuring.

The way he placed his paws on me was his language for telling me, “I understand this is frightening,” “This will pass soon”, “do you need anything?” “I’ll stay with you.”

He demonstrated that he was okay with staying with me until it passed.

I’ve had dogs my whole life as pets.

My dogs have always been treated like family members, not just domesticated animals.

ADEOLA SHEEHY-ADEKALE invited the writers for The Promptly Written Publication to explore the concept of pets and the human-animal relationship.

I’d always had what I thought was a close bond with the dogs I’d had, but this situation with Chewy showed me how deep the connection between a human and an animal can be.

Not only does Chewy provide me with friendship, companionship, loyalty, and love, but he also showed me the therapeutic, emotional, and physical health benefits of having a dog.

I haven’t had another panic attack since that day, although I’m sure the one I had won’t be the last one I’ll ever have to manage.

I am arranging external support to work through what is happening in my mind and body. Unfortunately, that is a process that takes time.

The one thing I know is that when the time comes that I do start to feel something that is within the realm of a panic attack, my first plan of action is to take my spot on the floor with Chewy.

I know he will look after me.

This essay was written as a response to the Promptly Written February Theme. If you want to read more responses to prompts, click below.