Help Is the Hardest Word

 Hello folks. Today I’m goning to talk about panic attacks and how I was to stubborn to ask for help.
  I got my first real panic attack in the beginning of november 2012. I’d planned to go home to visit my parents for the autumn break. We had had some really stressful times in school the weeks before that, so a change of air was really what I needed. But when I came down to the trainstation the train that I was meant to take had been replaced by a buss, and I just could not handle that. So I panicked, and I cried, and called a friend and my parents to tell them all about how mean the train company was. And no, I didn’t get on the bus. And it sure wasn’t my last panic attack either.
 Since then I’ve had so many panic attacks that I’ve lost count of them. But stubborn as I am, I refused to searsh help for the problem. I kept convince myself that it would go away by itself. That I would be fine if I just wasn’t so weak, if I just wasn’t so stupid, if I just didn’t do anything that could trigger the attacks. But they kept on getting whorse. So when we moved to Stockholm I isolated myself in our new appartment. And I guess thats when I also started to become depressed. I tried to get a job anyway, even went on a couple of interviews, thinking that my lungs were going to collapse on my way there. At this point I was still to stubborn to get some real help. And then I got one of the jobs. And I just couldn’t take it. I just could not go there. I satt home and cried and cried and thought I was the weakest most pathetic person in the world. I had reached my rock bottom. At that point I knew I had to get help. It took me one and a half year to realize it, but at least I finally did.
 I guess I was one of the lucky ones though. I got the help I needed kind of fast. I didn’t need to se five different doctors and try just as many medicines before I got someone to talk to. And for that I am forever grateful. And now I’m on my way back to life, and it feels awsome.

 So why am I writting this? First of all it’s because everyone needs to know that panic attacks is a real thing. And that they are awful. They are not something that people have made up to get sympathy or because they are to lazy to deal with the world. Trust me. We are not lazy. We are suvivors. And we are not alone in this.
 And for the second. I write this in the hopes that someone will learn from my stubbornness. Swallow your pride, ask for help, you don’t need to do this alone. You are worth so much more than this. We all are.

 To anyone reading this. Thank you. Thank you for reading and thank you for understanding. If you want to help someone that suffer from mental health problems, ask them how and don’t assume anything abot them based on what you read in a book or on the internet. Once again, thank you.



  1. I wish I had learnt earlier in my life that the feeling I was experiencing was a panic attack. Instead I went undiagnosed for years with no understanding and a constant feeling that I was weak and somehow I was incapable of coping on my own. Every single time I have a panic attack now, I'm grateful that I know what this feeling is and that it will pass! Thanks for sharing your story.

  2. Ida, you write your struggle so honestly. How unspeakably difficult this all must have been (be?) for you. I know you know but it breaks my heart that the thoughts that would come to your mind are that you "are stupid and weak" yet I can also understand it. I haven't struggled with this but with something else and I know the ways thoughts can take over sometimes. Thanks for sharing this so openly. Brave soul.

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