I have this paper bag named Buddy. Buddy is on its 3rd or 4th iteration since my first severe panic attack following my son's death. Hyperventilation = paper bag breathing. If I am not stubborn and I grab Buddy quickly I can regain control of my breathing in less than 5 minutes. If I am prideful this process can take over an hour. The experience is also much improved by a well-used Buddy. The paper becomes softer and makes less noise as you breathe in and out. It takes less effort to inhale and exhale. Sometimes Buddy has to be the first line of defense against acute panic, and then sometimes hangs in while secondary measures take their time to override my central nervous system.
This Buddy hasn't had so many uses yet. It has been 948 days since I came home without Ephrem. I still have panic attacks. 3-4 nights a month I'll wake up in absolute terror. Occasionally I'll get twisted up during waking hours. I do take daily medication to manage anxiety. I do have a Rx for panic attacks, which I use in only the very worst cases (only 4 times this whole year). But Buddy is there for me in the moment every time.
This probably seems like a weird share, which is really okay with me. It's surprising how comfortable bereaved parents can become with weird shares. The point of this is that if you are a bereaved person struggling with anxiety and/or panic attacks, you aren't alone in that. It is hard for me to imagine I'll ever be free of anxiety and panic attacks, but 948 days ago I couldn't imagine going an hour without Buddy, let alone days.
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