Fran teaches me how to fight — 13 of 31
Or “Overcoming Panic Disorder by Replicating It”
I’m a patron of Ninja Writers and this is day thirteen of the May Medium Post-a-Day Challenge of blogging for 30 consecutive days.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
Being uncomfortable sucks.
Leaving for work or school without a jacket and it’s cold outside. Going to a party and you don’t know anyone so you awkwardly try to insert yourself into conversation, but you still don’t break the ice. Blind dates. Public speaking. Skydiving. Flying in economy as a tall person in a non-exit row. On and on.
We have two choices in these situations: Abandon it for something familiar and/or comfortable, or stick it out and try to make the best of the situation (“Sure, I’d love an upgrade to First Class”).
Panic Disorder is being uncomfortable at its most severe, its most terrifying. You want it all to go away immediately but it won’t.
I was diagnosed with Panic Disorder back in 1999 when I was 14 years old. It was in late March/early April and my family and I had just returned from a trip to Disney World for spring break. My brother and I played roller hockey together at the time and we had a 7:30 game. I was on the last part of Ocarina of Time, but had to leave the house before finishing off Ganon/Ganondorf.
I was putting on my helmet prior to the game when I felt seriously short of breath with my mouthpiece in. I felt like I was suffocating. I didn’t know what anxiety/panic attacks were, so I was terrified out of my mind.
“Am I having a heart attack? Oh my God, I’m going to die.”
“Dad, I can’t breathe. I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Everything after leaving the rink is kind of a haunting blur. I don’t remember exact words or thoughts, just the general feeling of everything isn’t okay and this might be the end of my life. My eyes were twitching, I was shaking. My parents tried calling our family doctor and he wasn’t available.
“Did you take any drugs? Just be honest with us.”
I hadn’t.
In fact, drugs and alcohol were still scary to me at that point in my life. My Mom rushed me to WakeMed (the ER near our house). I was still freaking out in the waiting area, so they took me immediately back. I started to calm down as soon as the nurse started taking my blood pressure. Eventually, after determining nothing was wrong with me physically, we left.
“You have panic disorder.”
But, knowing what it was didn’t make it any easier. Without delving too much into my history of dealing with it, avoidance was my go-to strategy. Often times, this specifically meant designating physical “comfort zones” as the place I had to get to in order to feel better.
In the early years, it was “I need to be near a hospital in case something happens.” Then it was “I need to be around a friend or family member, I can’t be alone.” And then it was alcohol and Klonopin (separately or together).
Replicating Terror to Beat It
I joined a CrossFit gym in 2016 to get in better shape and take on a challenge that would keep me focused on the positive. Weightlifting, high intensity workouts. Totally my jam.
I had no idea it would teach me how to confront and overcome my worst fears.
Fran is the Grand Champion of hard motherfucking workouts.
All you need is a 45 lb barbell with two 25 lb weights loaded and a pull-up bar.
It may look simple, but doing this workout at the standard weight/reps in under six minutes makes even the best of athletes gasp for air at some point. It is purposefully uncomfortable. It’s meant to get your heart rate extremely high so the athlete builds the mental toughness to overcome it.
For me, Fran replicates exactly how you feel during a Panic Attack.
Super high heart rate, shaking, dizziness, exhaustion. And if you let those things get to you, the feeling of a bomb being inside of you. It needs to go away right now or I’m running for my life.
Go in afraid of having a panic attack and those symptoms bring you right into having one.
I did just that one Friday morning a few weeks ago.
“Look at me. Breathe. Go.”
I started off pretty well. I knocked out 12 thrusters and put the bar down to rest. I was breathing rapidly, but not too bad.
I knocked out the next 9. A little slower and more tired, but feeling good. I do 10 pull-ups. I’m a little uncomfortable.
I do 11 pull-ups. I drop from the bar and I’m terrified.
I walk up to the barbell to do the 15 thrusters and all I can think about is losing control. Losing my mind. I put my hand on the ground and look down. The fear is here and I can’t do anything about it. I can’t make it go away. I want it to go away and now. My workout partner asks me if something’s wrong and I’m too afraid to say anything.
The coach walks over.
“Look at me. Just breathe.”
I don’t want to. I want it to go away. I want to hop in my car and grab booze and drink until I can’t feel anything anymore. I want to die. I just want it to stop.
“Kyle, look at me. Breathe. Okay, you’ve got 15 to do. Give me three. Go.”
I focus on doing the three and only that. I do them. I start to panic again.
“Look at me. Breathe. Go.”
I do this until I’m done with the second set of thrusters. Same thing for the pull-ups.
Third set. Again, focused on what I have to do. Thrusters done. Pull-ups done.
I drop off the bar and without something to focus on, I start to panic again.
“Look at me. Breathe. It’s going to be okay. You’re done. It’s downhill from here.”
It took a bit, but my heart rate came down. I stopped wanting to run away and drink booze. I did get the “Fran cough” that many of the experienced members talk about, but I felt changed.
I can’t remember ever facing a panic attack head on, letting it happen, and getting through it.
Prior to this, I had always used avoidance of some sort. Distractions. Medication. Running away, driving away, giving into the fear.
I had faced sheer terror head on and came out just fine.
Lessons Learned
Fran taught me that being uncomfortable will be unavoidable for someone like me, prone to panic attacks, but that doesn’t make me helpless. That doesn’t mean I can’t endure the pain and deal with it. I can focus on what I can control and what I can’t, I simply need to let it run its course.
I also learned it’s okay to lean on others for support when I need it. I don’t need to tough everything out on my own. It doesn’t make me weak or needy.
Thanks, Fran. Now to get you under six minutes…
