Ever since this all started, I've never thought I was dying. That's actually uncommon with the Panic Disorder thing. Usually the entire attack is people thinking that they are going to die, then they hyperventilate, and blah blah blah everything gets crazy. That's not what I get. I always figure people die when they die. There's nothing you can do about it. Instead, I get sick. Or I feel like I'm going to be sick which to me is as good as dying. I feel like being stuck somewhere and being sick is the absolutely worst and most embarrassing thing that can happen to someone.
I was in New York City when I was 12. The Holiday Inn we were staying at had given us the wrong room. It was our second day in New York and we were leaving around 10 am and supposedly when we came back around 4 our new room would be ready. This scared me. I didn't have a place to go that was safe. So I went to the hotel lobby bathroom and started getting sick. I was really only dry-heaving and crying. I've always been dramatic. My mother was used to this routine. I always did this. So she just left me in the lobby bathroom in New York City while she went to the front desk to work out some things about the room. At some point a woman came into the bathroom and was really concerned. I mean, there's this 12 year old girl crying hysterically in a bathroom stall, choking herself to vomit - anyone would be concerned. Then she leaves and a hotel employee comes in and asks me if I need to go to the hospital. I'm 12 so I start yelling "No! No Hospital!" sobbing "I just need my mom! Janet Riley!". From what my mother told me, that hotel worker runs into a busy New York hotel lobby and calls a halt to everyone and yells "JANET RILEY COME HELP YOUR DAUGHTER IN THE WOMEN'S RESTROOM" and then my entire family laughs, so of course everyone around them is concerned about my home life. And now this is a funny story we tell at dinner parties.
But it's embarrassing. I was stuck in that bathroom. Just like I'm always stuck when it happens. When I was little it was better though, because my parents were my safe zone. If I was with my mom or dad, I would be okay no matter what. But then I went to college. That break of independence changed me. Now my parents don't calm me down. I'm not a little kid, if I'm like that in a hotel lobby bathroom - people are calling the cops. I'll end up in a mental facility and that will be my life.
My parents were always there to protect me and now they aren't. So now when I feel sick, I think "What if I am dying right now?" I think that no one would be there to see if I die or not. I actually think about if I died in my single dorm room, how long would it take for people to notice? I mean, I don't talk to my parents religiously everyday. I don't talk to anyone everyday like that. Maybe people would notice if I wasn't out on the stoop smoking cigarettes, but they would probably just assume that they keep missing me. So I realize that if I did die in my dorm room, people wouldn't know until my room started smelling rancid. Then I would be that person. That lonely person that is found by their smell. Not unlike the fat guy that lives in the apartment 3 doors down, or the old lady in the house with all her cats. But I'm not a lonely person. I'm lucky enough to have an enormous amount of people that love and care about me. (This differs me from a depressed person.) So I'm just afraid and anxious about the embarrassment of going that way. So now I'm afraid of dying. But only in my dorm room.
I was in New York City when I was 12. The Holiday Inn we were staying at had given us the wrong room. It was our second day in New York and we were leaving around 10 am and supposedly when we came back around 4 our new room would be ready. This scared me. I didn't have a place to go that was safe. So I went to the hotel lobby bathroom and started getting sick. I was really only dry-heaving and crying. I've always been dramatic. My mother was used to this routine. I always did this. So she just left me in the lobby bathroom in New York City while she went to the front desk to work out some things about the room. At some point a woman came into the bathroom and was really concerned. I mean, there's this 12 year old girl crying hysterically in a bathroom stall, choking herself to vomit - anyone would be concerned. Then she leaves and a hotel employee comes in and asks me if I need to go to the hospital. I'm 12 so I start yelling "No! No Hospital!" sobbing "I just need my mom! Janet Riley!". From what my mother told me, that hotel worker runs into a busy New York hotel lobby and calls a halt to everyone and yells "JANET RILEY COME HELP YOUR DAUGHTER IN THE WOMEN'S RESTROOM" and then my entire family laughs, so of course everyone around them is concerned about my home life. And now this is a funny story we tell at dinner parties.
But it's embarrassing. I was stuck in that bathroom. Just like I'm always stuck when it happens. When I was little it was better though, because my parents were my safe zone. If I was with my mom or dad, I would be okay no matter what. But then I went to college. That break of independence changed me. Now my parents don't calm me down. I'm not a little kid, if I'm like that in a hotel lobby bathroom - people are calling the cops. I'll end up in a mental facility and that will be my life.
My parents were always there to protect me and now they aren't. So now when I feel sick, I think "What if I am dying right now?" I think that no one would be there to see if I die or not. I actually think about if I died in my single dorm room, how long would it take for people to notice? I mean, I don't talk to my parents religiously everyday. I don't talk to anyone everyday like that. Maybe people would notice if I wasn't out on the stoop smoking cigarettes, but they would probably just assume that they keep missing me. So I realize that if I did die in my dorm room, people wouldn't know until my room started smelling rancid. Then I would be that person. That lonely person that is found by their smell. Not unlike the fat guy that lives in the apartment 3 doors down, or the old lady in the house with all her cats. But I'm not a lonely person. I'm lucky enough to have an enormous amount of people that love and care about me. (This differs me from a depressed person.) So I'm just afraid and anxious about the embarrassment of going that way. So now I'm afraid of dying. But only in my dorm room.
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