My prison sentence lasted just a little over 3 years.The whole time that I was there I continuously declared my innocence. What crime had I been charged with? I wasn't sure. Today's justice system is so unfair. Innocent people spend their whole lives locked away fro crimes committed by others. Was this to be my fate? Surely not.
Prison life was a lot more exhausting than I had ever imagined. I had several different jobs while I was there. I was in charge of the kitchen and janitorial department. I also took care of the laundry, and made sure everyone else was in line. I tried to escape a few times. Each time that I stepped out the door, it was there to stop me. Throwing it's arms around my chest. Squeezing me like a mighty giant. It was trying to cut off my airway. Smothering me. All the while dizziness rained over my body.
Once back inside the monster would slowly begin to release it's grip. I finally realized how all of this worked. To avoid the monster I must not try to escape the prison walls. You see I wasn't locked up at San Quentin or Rykers Island. I wasn't even at a nice little women facility in Connecticut.My prison was my home and panic was the warden.
Looking back to the beginning things were quite subtle. Little moments that stand out .That one time at work when I felt "dizzy". I went home early convincing myself that it was job stress. Once there was an automobile accident on the interstate and I was stuck in traffic. I was so afraid of the idea of being stuck I almost lost control. As the frequency of my attacks increased. So did my avoidance of certain situations. I stopped driving on the interstate. Just in case. Eventually I quit my job. Just in case. Pretty soon I stopped driving altogether. It escalated into not leaving my home. My only safe haven where I was free from the panic attacks. I became a prisoner.
My children didn't understand what was happening to Mommy."Why does Daddy always take us to practice now?"
Before I was medically diagnosed with panic disorder. I had been to 7 different physicians, prescribed 12 different medications, and given several different medical views on my possible condition. Some said I was too stressed out between my family and my job. Slow down, relax. Others told me I was depressed. Aren't people who suffer from depression sad? I wasn't sad. Was I? Then I received the phone call that saved my life.
It was my best friend, Kim. She had been talking with a coworker earlier that day, about her medical woes. The more she talked the more Kim, felt like the symptoms had been describing sounded exactly like mine. The lady went on to explain that she had been diagnosed with panic disorder. I phoned my physician the next morning to set up an appointment. After discussing he agreed. With the help of anti anxiety medication and some desensitization therapy. I had my sentence commuted in less than 30 days! It has now been 13 years since I was afraid to leave my house. I still have the occasional panic attack, but I am now much more prepared to handle it. About
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