An Agoraphobic's Christmas
Christmas!
Trim the tree! Stuff the turkey!
Christmas!
A happy time! Celebrations! Peace on earth
There was no peace for me for many Christmases after I suffered my first panic attack. It was a time of extreme tension and stress. A time of self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy.
I wanted so much to participate in this wonderful time of year but the times when my heart was light were few and far between. I tried so hard to make it a happy time for my children and I think I did but not without great stress and strain on myself.
I couldn't shop for gifts. I couldn't be a part of the hustle and bustle. I couldn't experience the feeling of being jostled by the crowds of shoppers nor complain about the long hours I had spent shopping. I wanted to walk in through my door, kick my shoes off and flop onto a chair while my daughter got me a cup of tea. I would flick through the pages of a mail-order catalogue instead, searching for suitable gifts.
I listened to my children talk about the lovely decorations that were in the Malls and I would try to picture what it was like. When friends would ask if I had my shopping done I would assure them that I was ready for the big day. I was always afraid they would ask me to go with them. At that point in my illness I had no idea what was wrong with me and was unable to explain my feelings and fears to them.
The tension escalated as Christmas drew near. The gift buying was taken care of and the grocery shopping would be done by my daughter. Although she was eleven, she was mature for her age and although she never complained I felt so guilty. It hurt to know I was unable to do my own grocery shopping.
Although I wasn't able to do much on the outside there was plenty to be done on the inside.There was lots of dusting and cleaning and there were cookies and cakes to be baked and I managed to cope despite the trembling and nausea which were my constant companions. The tasks that filled me with dread was the trimming of the tree and preparing the turkey.They were "must do" situations. Trimming the tree was always done on Christmas Eve. This was a tradition carried over from childhood days. I would send the children off to bed and then have the responsibility of creating a beautifully decorated tree for them to view the following morning. Positioning the tree wasn't too difficult; it was the untangling of the lights that gave me grief and almost put me over the bend. The hopeless tangle..the trembling hands working against time. It would have been so easy to gather them up and throw them into the garbage and that's exactly what I did do one year. But I felt so guilty about that that I never did it again.
Although totally exhausted at this point there was still the turkey to be stuffed. I would look at the big bird lying in wait for me and pray that God would give me the strength. It had to be done and before I was through I would have to sit down as the trembling was just too great.
I rarely slept that night. I would lie in bed with my arms wrapped around me in an attempt to stop the tremors that were running rampant through my body. There were times when I thought I would fall out of the bed so I would wait and pray for daylight. Then I would have the children to keep me busy and the sound of their chatter would sound like music to me..Being children and excited they wouldn't notice my shaky hands as I passed them their gifts and I was glad because I wouldn't spoil their Christmas for anything.
A feeling of loneliness was ever with me during the season. I wanted to visit friends and partake of the festivities...to simply sit and chat and if I did get the nerve to visit, I would perch on the edge of a chair all ready for flight. I hated being phobic! I wouldn't eat because I was afraid I would choke on the food so I would sip on a drink until I felt it was time for me to go. If I could have explained to others how I was feeling it would no doubt have relieved some of the pressure inside me but I didn't know how to go about telling them and I'm sure they wouldn't have understood. How could they?
I wrote this article in 1987. At that time I'd lived with panic disorder for twelve years and had never met anyone else who could relate to how I felt. The following year I helped start a self-help group and came in contact with many who had panic disorder and I began to feel a bit better about myself as you can see from the next piece I wrote called, "Ghosts Of Christmas Past."
And a month or so ago I wrote "My Gosh, Can This Be Me?" so it has been a long climb but I never gave up hope and I ask you to do the same. You never know when it will be your turn to reclaim your life as you once knew it.
My best to you all and may your greatest expectations be realized in the coming new year.
Eileen Power
copyright 1987
