Oh the weekends. Most people start their countdown to the weekend on Mondays – for me I kind of dread them. I once loved the weekends. I would walk the streets of Manhattan – one camera around my neck, another in hand. My passion for this dreamy city was huge and the weekends were like a drug. Soho, Battery Park City, Central Park, East Village…all of it. My favorite adventure was a good walk over the Brooklyn Bridge on a crisp fall day with a dear friend. We would have brunch in Dumbo Brooklyn and chat it up over some slamming coffee and decedent pancakes at Bubby’s Restaurant. Sigh. Those days are long gone.
I have been crippled with panic disorder for about 2 years now. I had it in my early 20’s as well. The beast of panic is something that is hard to put into words or explain to anyone who has not experienced it first had. I am not talking about a racing heart and shortness of breath (although I’ve had that too and it is not to be taken lightly) – I am talking about irrational fear that makes your head spin. I get very dizzy out on the streets or in wide-open spaces and I don’t surf the emotions well. I have fainted from panic. I have gotten stuck while crossing 3rd Avenue in the intersection – traffic coming and my feet would not move. I felt completely disconnected from my body – which is also known as depersonalization (which I once experienced for about 5 months straight!).
My doctor feels that my “manic” state shows it ugly face through sever panic. I don’t have the pleasure of experiencing hypo-mania or mania like other bipolar patients. I don’t go on shopping sprees, sex-capades or stay up for nights with creative bursts (although I sometimes get a bit brain-stormy). The panic has taken over my life and has strained a few friendships. I manage to get to work and back home (in a cab). I avoid lunch dates with colleagues outside of the building because I work in Times Square of all places. It is a bit comical. I mean there I am – holding on to a lamp post at 45th and Broadway – middle of the winter…shaking with fear praying for a damn cab. The Naked Cowboy is singing away, tourists are snapping photos with me as the nut-job in the background, the lady trying to sell comedy show tickets is screaming in my ear “Who likes comedy” – and I am about to punch her in the face (not really – but I have fantasized about it). “I’m having a meltdown here people!” I want to scream for help. But I can’t….I am outside work and what if someone I know sees me? So…I stand there…shaking…freezing…terrified. Finally I ask a police officer for help. I tell him I have panic disorder and can he please get me a cab (pretty nervy right…to ask New York’s finest to be a doorman and fetch me a ride?). He gently asked me if I needed to go to the hospital (he was young and compassionate)…I pondered it…and kindly said no with tears streaming down my red/frozen cheeks (I wish I wore a hat and gloves that day – I was so numb from the cold it hurt). He and his partner stop traffic in TIMES SQUARE and tell the cab diver I have a hip problem (at the time I was 275 lbs and that was an easy sell). I eased into the back of the warm cab - finally safe - silence - (I could not believe what just happened…it took me 1 hour to get a cab because I would not let go of the lamp post!).
So, back to the weekends. With all of that said…why would I leave my house on the weekends? How can I? But I have to. It’s called exposure therapy and the more I do it…the easier it will get. And maybe, just maybe (I write this with tears in my eyes) I will be able to walk over the Brooklyn Bridge with my friend Donna again.
Today, Sunday – I had success. I went to a trade show and schmoozed for business (I could have easily gotten out of it)…then I walked 3 blocks – hopped a downtown bus and went shopping at Lord and Taylor (not a fun manic spree…as I said…just lost some weight and have nothing to wear – found one sweater…no fun in that!). After Lord and Taylor I walked another 5 blocks to another store (Lane Bryant…I dream of the day I can get out of the fatty stores…but that’s for another blog). This was a big day for me. I have done this route before many times…but it is nice to see things in an upswing again. I did it.
The above photo is from one of my winter walks over the Brooklyn Bridge with my friend. The moment the rain came – it was as if we had the entire bridge to ourselves. The back-story to this photo is even more spectacular. My apartment had been robbed in October of 2003 and all of my cameras were stolen (no renter’s insurance). An amazing group of friends (including the one in the picture) – raised money from clients and colleagues and gave me over $2,000 to buy new cameras! Over 35 people pitched in and wrote the most touching card (I have never felt more loved and special). This was the first shot I took with my new camera (film). Winter 2004.
I have been crippled with panic disorder for about 2 years now. I had it in my early 20’s as well. The beast of panic is something that is hard to put into words or explain to anyone who has not experienced it first had. I am not talking about a racing heart and shortness of breath (although I’ve had that too and it is not to be taken lightly) – I am talking about irrational fear that makes your head spin. I get very dizzy out on the streets or in wide-open spaces and I don’t surf the emotions well. I have fainted from panic. I have gotten stuck while crossing 3rd Avenue in the intersection – traffic coming and my feet would not move. I felt completely disconnected from my body – which is also known as depersonalization (which I once experienced for about 5 months straight!).
My doctor feels that my “manic” state shows it ugly face through sever panic. I don’t have the pleasure of experiencing hypo-mania or mania like other bipolar patients. I don’t go on shopping sprees, sex-capades or stay up for nights with creative bursts (although I sometimes get a bit brain-stormy). The panic has taken over my life and has strained a few friendships. I manage to get to work and back home (in a cab). I avoid lunch dates with colleagues outside of the building because I work in Times Square of all places. It is a bit comical. I mean there I am – holding on to a lamp post at 45th and Broadway – middle of the winter…shaking with fear praying for a damn cab. The Naked Cowboy is singing away, tourists are snapping photos with me as the nut-job in the background, the lady trying to sell comedy show tickets is screaming in my ear “Who likes comedy” – and I am about to punch her in the face (not really – but I have fantasized about it). “I’m having a meltdown here people!” I want to scream for help. But I can’t….I am outside work and what if someone I know sees me? So…I stand there…shaking…freezing…terrified. Finally I ask a police officer for help. I tell him I have panic disorder and can he please get me a cab (pretty nervy right…to ask New York’s finest to be a doorman and fetch me a ride?). He gently asked me if I needed to go to the hospital (he was young and compassionate)…I pondered it…and kindly said no with tears streaming down my red/frozen cheeks (I wish I wore a hat and gloves that day – I was so numb from the cold it hurt). He and his partner stop traffic in TIMES SQUARE and tell the cab diver I have a hip problem (at the time I was 275 lbs and that was an easy sell). I eased into the back of the warm cab - finally safe - silence - (I could not believe what just happened…it took me 1 hour to get a cab because I would not let go of the lamp post!).
So, back to the weekends. With all of that said…why would I leave my house on the weekends? How can I? But I have to. It’s called exposure therapy and the more I do it…the easier it will get. And maybe, just maybe (I write this with tears in my eyes) I will be able to walk over the Brooklyn Bridge with my friend Donna again.
Today, Sunday – I had success. I went to a trade show and schmoozed for business (I could have easily gotten out of it)…then I walked 3 blocks – hopped a downtown bus and went shopping at Lord and Taylor (not a fun manic spree…as I said…just lost some weight and have nothing to wear – found one sweater…no fun in that!). After Lord and Taylor I walked another 5 blocks to another store (Lane Bryant…I dream of the day I can get out of the fatty stores…but that’s for another blog). This was a big day for me. I have done this route before many times…but it is nice to see things in an upswing again. I did it.
The above photo is from one of my winter walks over the Brooklyn Bridge with my friend. The moment the rain came – it was as if we had the entire bridge to ourselves. The back-story to this photo is even more spectacular. My apartment had been robbed in October of 2003 and all of my cameras were stolen (no renter’s insurance). An amazing group of friends (including the one in the picture) – raised money from clients and colleagues and gave me over $2,000 to buy new cameras! Over 35 people pitched in and wrote the most touching card (I have never felt more loved and special). This was the first shot I took with my new camera (film). Winter 2004.
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