A Post-Panic Attack Post

This ends with a surprise confession.

I woke up this morning, made coffee, and had a panic attack.

In the moment, I didn’t know I was having one. I thought I was just stressed.

I curled up in the fetal position on my bed and cried uncontrollably for 5 minutes straight and couldn’t catch my breath. My heart was racing and my body wouldn’t calm down, so I had to move myself, I had to walk down the street to the package room to grab a delivery and on my way I was trying to calm my heart even as I was walking so fast and was so blind to my environment that I almost ran directly into my friend Lua. She was calm and spoke gently and I was so agitated that I didn’t know what to do with myself. It was like an out of body experience, like I was watching myself try to have a normal interaction with someone I see all the time, only I felt like I was trying to hide something. It was like watching an anxious alien pretending to be a human for the first time, using my body as it’s costume. I think I nearly let the full weight of my body collapse into her arms when she hugged me goodbye, and I think that’s probably what I needed from someone at that moment. A full body collapse into someone else’s arms. But I didn’t know how to describe to Lua what was happening to me, and Andre had already gone to work before I was out of bed, and so I got my packages and came back to the apartment. I threw the packages on the table and proceeded to make my lunch with shaky hands, breathing through my mouth, eyes darting between yogurt and blueberries and carrots. I threw everything in bags and containers and all of that in my backpack together and went out the door in a breathless frenzy.

I wanted to stay home. If my brain had been able to process what was happening in the moment, I would have seen that I should have given up well before now. I should have already sent a message to my supervisor, already gotten back into my pajamas, already been snuggled back in bed with Junie. I would have seen that I shouldn’t have been driving in that state. I wasn’t able, though, so I threw my car into drive and left. I made it six blocks before my car started shaking, and two service lights flashed at me from the dash. The light turned green, and I went, and my car shuddered, but kept on. I turned right, then right again, then right again, until I was back to my apartment.

I still worked. I worked for five hours before throwing in the towel. I’m proud of myself for sending a message at the beginning of the day to let my supervisor know I may need to leave early. I was open about why, and I’m grateful that they’ve created a space where I can feel comfortable being open about it.

Andre has been taking care of me this afternoon. I told him he should send me to an asylum. My breath is more regular. I ate a sandwich.

I’m burning out, my energy reduced to a fizzle on a good day.

I’m autistic, and autistic burnout is not the same as general burnout. It’s not temporary exhaustion, it’s persistent. It’s not needing the weekend to recover, it’s needing months. I’m clinically overwhelmed with no end in sight.

I’ve never written about being autistic. Even though I was diagnosed a few years ago, it’s not something I know how to be open about in most settings. I don’t feel like I’m “out” as an autistic person, so to speak. For me, it’s mostly an internal experience because I am highly masked most of the time. I didn’t even intend to write about autism when I decided to write about my panic attack.

This is a spontaneous admission.

I am autistic.

This morning, I woke up, made coffee, and had a panic attack.

I had a panic attack because I am in autistic burnout, and I need to stop and recover, but I can’t because I have to win my bread.

Trying to function normally with an invisible disability is exhausting.

Not enough energy to wrap this up neatly.

Will explore writing more about my autistic experiences.

Nap time.

Goodbye.