Luella's Corner
| MY LOST YEARS |
One certain fact that I have learned about life is that you never know when it will change. I am not talking
about a slow change, but an immediate change, from one second to another. In an instant, you can be
transformed into a totally different person. I have changed in an instant twice in my life. The last time my
life changed in an instant it was wonderful! I soared to Cloud 9 and still haven’t come down. The first time
my life changed, I plummeted to the depths of Hell.
My son was three months old. I had just finished my maternity leave and returned to work. This was a
Saturday afternoon in the middle of January, a day that started like any other day. I still remember that very
moment back in January, 1982, I was just leaving my neighbor’s house on my way back home, when…..
WHAM! Out of nowhere, it hit me like a ton of bricks. My first panic attack. It lasted but a minute. I thought,
“What was that!” and continued to walk home. I never felt quite the same after that day. My entire life and
my entire persona changed in that one instant.
After that first incident, I seemed to be quite tense and little, by little, unbeknownst to me, my personality
was changing. I was slowly withdrawing, I was slowly starting to feel anxiety. I would soon be
agoraphobic.
It’s funny how that anxiety creeps up on you, so very quietly, so very smoothly, almost behind your back,
and by the time you become aware of it, you are held tight in its grip, with almost no way of escape. For
those not familiar with this, it is almost impossible to comprehend. Go back when you felt the worst panic
and fear in your life. Go back to that situation. Now magnify that feeling 10 times. Pretty bad. Go up ten
more. Keep going. See if you can get to 100. Our anxiety is your worst fear magnified up to 1,000 times. It
is a paralyzing fear, nothing less than sheer terror. What is the object of our terror, you may ask. We
simply don’t know. It’s just sheer terror. I would think and think, and try to figure out what was wrong, but
could never find an answer. This would add additional, worry and confusion thus further magnifying and
snowballing this whole process. I slowly became an unwilling captive in this endless circle.
At this time, I was the office administrator of a small real estate company. I had to hold that company
together. Amazingly, up to my last day of work, I did my job exceedingly well. I had to hold my life together.
I had two children, Veronica who was eleven years old and Frank, a mere three months old.
The first panic attack that actually scared me senseless occurred while driving my car. I was on my way
home from work. Up until this time I had experienced growing desperate anxiety in the car. I almost felt
like I would not make it to my destination. I feared that I might possibly die before I got there. Heaven
forbid I should be stopped in traffic. The desperation would grow worse and worse. My thoughts were, “I’
m almost there! I’m almost there!” “The light will change any minute!” But if I became stopped in traffic
with no way out, the desperation was unbearable. I would lose my focus, become dizzy. I would have to
move my eyes around so I wouldn’t pass out, or so I thought. Then one day, going down the Ventura
Freeway in California on my way home, WHAM! it hit. I had a full blown panic attack while driving. To this
day I maintain that God drove the car for me. The fact that I didn’t kill myself, let alone someone else is
nothing less than a miracle. I lost my balance. I had vertigo. It seemed like an electric current was going
through my body. My heart was totally out of control, my ears were ringing. I thought I was dying. But, as
many or our thinking patterns go, I would not pull over because I didn’t want my body to be found in the
car on the shoulder of the freeway. Now I was truly afraid I would die at any given moment from one of
these horrific attacks.
In those days, this condition was not well known, and very often not acknowledged. My friends saw me as
neurotic. I was all alone and I would need their help, time after time, after time. Well, they simply got tired
of it. They simply got tired of me. I lost all my friends. I was alone. My world was closing in. Pretty soon I
would have a panic attack while at the supermarket, at a store, just going out to lunch. It became harder
and harder for me to leave my house. During these panic moments, I would cry out loud for help. “Oh,
something’s wrong! I feel so sick! Somebody help me!” But I looked normal to everyone else and no one
knew what to make of me.
I went from doctor to doctor for two full years. Every test in the world was performed. Everything came out
normal. They didn’t know what to make out of my complaints. One doctor told me I would have to live with
it, and another one pretty much insinuated I was crazy. I plummeted into a world of despair.
I had my baby to take care of and many times I would have to rely on my daughter to help me. Bless her
heart, Veronica was terrified during these times. Every time I needed to drive somewhere, she was sure
that we would crash and that I would end her life. And, believe me, I only drove when absolutely
necessary. It took every ounce of concentration for me to drive and get from Point A to Point B. Every time
the child would try to say something to me, I would immediately tensely tell her not to say a word and be
completely quiet. She could tell me when we got out of the car. This further frightened my 11 year old and
she became quite anxious and worried about her mother.
They say that a person with agoraphobia has the emotional dependability of an 8 year old. I disagree. I
believe I had the emotional dependability of a 3 year old. So there I was, a 3 year old, fully in charge of an
11 year old and an infant, and sometimes relying on my 11 year old to please help me. That was quite a
heavy burden for a child.
One day, I awoke, as any other day, and proceeded to get ready for work. All of a sudden, I realized that I
would never make it there. I realized that I may not ever make it there again. I called my boss and
explained the situation. He had watched me deteriorate emotionally day by day. They also say that an
agoraphobic is not mentally ill. They are emotionally ill. One thing that I will say about him, he was always
very supportive, although he had no idea what in the world was wrong with me. Now and then he would
tease me, but he cared. At this point in time, I had been with him for 15 years. Dan immediately made
sure that I received Workmen’s Compensation and just merely told them that I had suffered a nervous
breakdown because of too much stress in the work environment. For that I will be forever grateful. So,
other than anything I absolutely had to do outside the home, I became homebound.
One day, out of nowhere, I had a full blown panic attack at home. This was very unusual, because home
is considered a safe place. This was devastating. Veronica watched in horror and ran out of the house. I
had lost all control and couldn’t even ask her where she was going. So, after it was over, I just sat
motionless on the floor, with my head resting on the couch. It seemed as though I hit bottom. However,
when you hit bottom, there’s no way but up, and I was about to be rescued from my torment. Veronica had
summoned a neighbor and told her that her mother needed help. As I sat on the floor, leaning on my side
against the couch with my head on the pillow, extremely weak from the throes my body had just endured,
Veronica brought this stranger into my home. She took one look at me and I will never forget those
wonderful words that she uttered, “I know what’s wrong with you! My friend has the same thing!” Those
were the loveliest words I had heard in two years. My new friend’s name was Sally. Sally took care of me
that day, as I was dreadfully ill and wiped out. In fact, that very night, my mother who lived in Florida woke
frantically in the middle of the night with a dream that I was about to die and called me. My mother was
never aware of what I had gone through, as I did not want to worry her. She had quite enough on her
hands living with my dad and she did not need the additional worry. I would call her every Saturday and I
would always put on my happy voice and told her everything was fine. I swore Veronica to secrecy.
Veronica learned very well, as now when she is having a difficult time, she doesn’t tell me so I won’t
worry. And sometimes I find out when pieces need to be picked up.
My friend Sally gave me the name of her friend’s doctor and drove me there. My new friend became my full
support and stayed by me through the years until I was fully functional. Then, somehow we parted ways.
She disappeared, almost like a God sent angel that had finished her assignment. I will always love her
for her very unselfish deeds. She was the only one in the world who stood beside me.
I was diagnosed. No, I wasn’t crazy. I had a malady. A malady that 3 million Americans suffer with. I was
given the medicine for the day, Tofanil and Xanax. After an hour of taking my first Xanax, for the first time in
two years I felt human. I did not feel well. I felt human. What a wonderful, joyful feeling! I was so happy that
I put a tape on and Veronica, Frank, and I danced around the living room.
The first thing my psychiatrist had to convince me of was that when a panic attack hit me I would not die.
That was a very big hurdle for me to jump over, as after two years, it was so deeply imbedded in me. He
taught me how to think right. He taught me relaxation techniques. He taught me how to visualize, he
taught me how to live again. I diligently followed his instructions as I had a very important decision to
make. I could either stay the way I was, or I could get well. My decision was that I would get well. My very
first assignment was to walk around the block by myself. I walked out the door in sheer terror. With every
single step I would get dizzy, feel as though I would go into the throes of a panic attack. I felt it starting. I
repeatedly told myself, “This is not going to kill me, this is not going to kill me…….” Finally, I was so totally
relieved when I was back in front of my house. I had accomplished my task for the day. I just rested the
rest of the day. My homework had totally wiped me out. From there, little by little I went further and further.
Sally was my support. She would stop anything for me at any given time. She started accompanying me
to the store at first. Eventually, she would follow me as I ventured in by myself. Then she would wait for
me in the car as I did my shopping by myself, learning how to relax, how to focus. Standing in line at the
cash register, I would feel the panic attack start to come on. “A panic attack will not kill me, a panic attack
will not kill me…………” I repeated over and over. The day came when I got behind the wheel of a car with
Sally by my side. Nervously, I drove to the doctor which was about ten miles away. I drove everywhere with
Sally by my side. Then the day came when I would drive by myself and Sally would follow me. I still
remember how nervous I was, but I knew that Sally was right behind me. Little by little I felt proud of
myself. I had a feeling of accomplishment. All this time, I still had anxiety and feelings of panic. I was
merely coping with them while using my visualization, relaxation techniques, and learning to change my
thinking. Every time I caught myself thinking a negative thought I would immediately change it. Little by
little I recognized the negative thoughts a little sooner. I recognized the anxiety starting a little sooner, and
I was able to start my visualization and relaxation exercises a little sooner. One day, I made a very
important decision. I made an agreement with myself that no matter how I felt on a given day, I would act
like I felt well. The world would never know. They would see someone who was well, friendly, happy and
positive. Eventually, this became a habit and I became a new Luella.
This was a very long and slow process and it took eight years for my full recovery, where I could do
everything that I needed to in order to function as a self-sufficient human being. Once again, I could be a
full time mother to my children. Veronica was able to relax and Frank, bless his heart, he always was and
is the calmest individual I know. He takes everything in his stride. During those times, I sometimes
became overjoyed while outside in the world attending to my errands. I would be changing lanes on the
freeway. Wheeeeee! Look what I can do! Thank you Lord! I would be in a crowded store, “Thank you God
that I can do this!” I gave thanks for everything! Even every now and then, I will notice that I am driving a
long distance, in a crowded store, at a function with many people, and yes, even on stage singing a song
in front of a crowd, and I will think, “Look what I can do! Wheeeeee! Thank you God!” I still have that proud
feeling that I can take care of things and also be a help to others. The 3 year old little girl has finally grown
up!
All this occurred during my thirties. I often refer to these years as my lost decade, but they weren’t, really.
Those years made me what I am today. Had the Master Builder not molded the clay into what I am today, I
would still be shy, introverted and fear would still be my constant companion. I know that He has not
finished molding me, as life is a constant growing process and now I accept and look at everything in a
different light. Life has become such a wonderful adventure. Every new day is a new beginning. Finally.
about a slow change, but an immediate change, from one second to another. In an instant, you can be
transformed into a totally different person. I have changed in an instant twice in my life. The last time my
life changed in an instant it was wonderful! I soared to Cloud 9 and still haven’t come down. The first time
my life changed, I plummeted to the depths of Hell.
My son was three months old. I had just finished my maternity leave and returned to work. This was a
Saturday afternoon in the middle of January, a day that started like any other day. I still remember that very
moment back in January, 1982, I was just leaving my neighbor’s house on my way back home, when…..
WHAM! Out of nowhere, it hit me like a ton of bricks. My first panic attack. It lasted but a minute. I thought,
“What was that!” and continued to walk home. I never felt quite the same after that day. My entire life and
my entire persona changed in that one instant.
After that first incident, I seemed to be quite tense and little, by little, unbeknownst to me, my personality
was changing. I was slowly withdrawing, I was slowly starting to feel anxiety. I would soon be
agoraphobic.
It’s funny how that anxiety creeps up on you, so very quietly, so very smoothly, almost behind your back,
and by the time you become aware of it, you are held tight in its grip, with almost no way of escape. For
those not familiar with this, it is almost impossible to comprehend. Go back when you felt the worst panic
and fear in your life. Go back to that situation. Now magnify that feeling 10 times. Pretty bad. Go up ten
more. Keep going. See if you can get to 100. Our anxiety is your worst fear magnified up to 1,000 times. It
is a paralyzing fear, nothing less than sheer terror. What is the object of our terror, you may ask. We
simply don’t know. It’s just sheer terror. I would think and think, and try to figure out what was wrong, but
could never find an answer. This would add additional, worry and confusion thus further magnifying and
snowballing this whole process. I slowly became an unwilling captive in this endless circle.
At this time, I was the office administrator of a small real estate company. I had to hold that company
together. Amazingly, up to my last day of work, I did my job exceedingly well. I had to hold my life together.
I had two children, Veronica who was eleven years old and Frank, a mere three months old.
The first panic attack that actually scared me senseless occurred while driving my car. I was on my way
home from work. Up until this time I had experienced growing desperate anxiety in the car. I almost felt
like I would not make it to my destination. I feared that I might possibly die before I got there. Heaven
forbid I should be stopped in traffic. The desperation would grow worse and worse. My thoughts were, “I’
m almost there! I’m almost there!” “The light will change any minute!” But if I became stopped in traffic
with no way out, the desperation was unbearable. I would lose my focus, become dizzy. I would have to
move my eyes around so I wouldn’t pass out, or so I thought. Then one day, going down the Ventura
Freeway in California on my way home, WHAM! it hit. I had a full blown panic attack while driving. To this
day I maintain that God drove the car for me. The fact that I didn’t kill myself, let alone someone else is
nothing less than a miracle. I lost my balance. I had vertigo. It seemed like an electric current was going
through my body. My heart was totally out of control, my ears were ringing. I thought I was dying. But, as
many or our thinking patterns go, I would not pull over because I didn’t want my body to be found in the
car on the shoulder of the freeway. Now I was truly afraid I would die at any given moment from one of
these horrific attacks.
In those days, this condition was not well known, and very often not acknowledged. My friends saw me as
neurotic. I was all alone and I would need their help, time after time, after time. Well, they simply got tired
of it. They simply got tired of me. I lost all my friends. I was alone. My world was closing in. Pretty soon I
would have a panic attack while at the supermarket, at a store, just going out to lunch. It became harder
and harder for me to leave my house. During these panic moments, I would cry out loud for help. “Oh,
something’s wrong! I feel so sick! Somebody help me!” But I looked normal to everyone else and no one
knew what to make of me.
I went from doctor to doctor for two full years. Every test in the world was performed. Everything came out
normal. They didn’t know what to make out of my complaints. One doctor told me I would have to live with
it, and another one pretty much insinuated I was crazy. I plummeted into a world of despair.
I had my baby to take care of and many times I would have to rely on my daughter to help me. Bless her
heart, Veronica was terrified during these times. Every time I needed to drive somewhere, she was sure
that we would crash and that I would end her life. And, believe me, I only drove when absolutely
necessary. It took every ounce of concentration for me to drive and get from Point A to Point B. Every time
the child would try to say something to me, I would immediately tensely tell her not to say a word and be
completely quiet. She could tell me when we got out of the car. This further frightened my 11 year old and
she became quite anxious and worried about her mother.
They say that a person with agoraphobia has the emotional dependability of an 8 year old. I disagree. I
believe I had the emotional dependability of a 3 year old. So there I was, a 3 year old, fully in charge of an
11 year old and an infant, and sometimes relying on my 11 year old to please help me. That was quite a
heavy burden for a child.
One day, I awoke, as any other day, and proceeded to get ready for work. All of a sudden, I realized that I
would never make it there. I realized that I may not ever make it there again. I called my boss and
explained the situation. He had watched me deteriorate emotionally day by day. They also say that an
agoraphobic is not mentally ill. They are emotionally ill. One thing that I will say about him, he was always
very supportive, although he had no idea what in the world was wrong with me. Now and then he would
tease me, but he cared. At this point in time, I had been with him for 15 years. Dan immediately made
sure that I received Workmen’s Compensation and just merely told them that I had suffered a nervous
breakdown because of too much stress in the work environment. For that I will be forever grateful. So,
other than anything I absolutely had to do outside the home, I became homebound.
One day, out of nowhere, I had a full blown panic attack at home. This was very unusual, because home
is considered a safe place. This was devastating. Veronica watched in horror and ran out of the house. I
had lost all control and couldn’t even ask her where she was going. So, after it was over, I just sat
motionless on the floor, with my head resting on the couch. It seemed as though I hit bottom. However,
when you hit bottom, there’s no way but up, and I was about to be rescued from my torment. Veronica had
summoned a neighbor and told her that her mother needed help. As I sat on the floor, leaning on my side
against the couch with my head on the pillow, extremely weak from the throes my body had just endured,
Veronica brought this stranger into my home. She took one look at me and I will never forget those
wonderful words that she uttered, “I know what’s wrong with you! My friend has the same thing!” Those
were the loveliest words I had heard in two years. My new friend’s name was Sally. Sally took care of me
that day, as I was dreadfully ill and wiped out. In fact, that very night, my mother who lived in Florida woke
frantically in the middle of the night with a dream that I was about to die and called me. My mother was
never aware of what I had gone through, as I did not want to worry her. She had quite enough on her
hands living with my dad and she did not need the additional worry. I would call her every Saturday and I
would always put on my happy voice and told her everything was fine. I swore Veronica to secrecy.
Veronica learned very well, as now when she is having a difficult time, she doesn’t tell me so I won’t
worry. And sometimes I find out when pieces need to be picked up.
My friend Sally gave me the name of her friend’s doctor and drove me there. My new friend became my full
support and stayed by me through the years until I was fully functional. Then, somehow we parted ways.
She disappeared, almost like a God sent angel that had finished her assignment. I will always love her
for her very unselfish deeds. She was the only one in the world who stood beside me.
I was diagnosed. No, I wasn’t crazy. I had a malady. A malady that 3 million Americans suffer with. I was
given the medicine for the day, Tofanil and Xanax. After an hour of taking my first Xanax, for the first time in
two years I felt human. I did not feel well. I felt human. What a wonderful, joyful feeling! I was so happy that
I put a tape on and Veronica, Frank, and I danced around the living room.
The first thing my psychiatrist had to convince me of was that when a panic attack hit me I would not die.
That was a very big hurdle for me to jump over, as after two years, it was so deeply imbedded in me. He
taught me how to think right. He taught me relaxation techniques. He taught me how to visualize, he
taught me how to live again. I diligently followed his instructions as I had a very important decision to
make. I could either stay the way I was, or I could get well. My decision was that I would get well. My very
first assignment was to walk around the block by myself. I walked out the door in sheer terror. With every
single step I would get dizzy, feel as though I would go into the throes of a panic attack. I felt it starting. I
repeatedly told myself, “This is not going to kill me, this is not going to kill me…….” Finally, I was so totally
relieved when I was back in front of my house. I had accomplished my task for the day. I just rested the
rest of the day. My homework had totally wiped me out. From there, little by little I went further and further.
Sally was my support. She would stop anything for me at any given time. She started accompanying me
to the store at first. Eventually, she would follow me as I ventured in by myself. Then she would wait for
me in the car as I did my shopping by myself, learning how to relax, how to focus. Standing in line at the
cash register, I would feel the panic attack start to come on. “A panic attack will not kill me, a panic attack
will not kill me…………” I repeated over and over. The day came when I got behind the wheel of a car with
Sally by my side. Nervously, I drove to the doctor which was about ten miles away. I drove everywhere with
Sally by my side. Then the day came when I would drive by myself and Sally would follow me. I still
remember how nervous I was, but I knew that Sally was right behind me. Little by little I felt proud of
myself. I had a feeling of accomplishment. All this time, I still had anxiety and feelings of panic. I was
merely coping with them while using my visualization, relaxation techniques, and learning to change my
thinking. Every time I caught myself thinking a negative thought I would immediately change it. Little by
little I recognized the negative thoughts a little sooner. I recognized the anxiety starting a little sooner, and
I was able to start my visualization and relaxation exercises a little sooner. One day, I made a very
important decision. I made an agreement with myself that no matter how I felt on a given day, I would act
like I felt well. The world would never know. They would see someone who was well, friendly, happy and
positive. Eventually, this became a habit and I became a new Luella.
This was a very long and slow process and it took eight years for my full recovery, where I could do
everything that I needed to in order to function as a self-sufficient human being. Once again, I could be a
full time mother to my children. Veronica was able to relax and Frank, bless his heart, he always was and
is the calmest individual I know. He takes everything in his stride. During those times, I sometimes
became overjoyed while outside in the world attending to my errands. I would be changing lanes on the
freeway. Wheeeeee! Look what I can do! Thank you Lord! I would be in a crowded store, “Thank you God
that I can do this!” I gave thanks for everything! Even every now and then, I will notice that I am driving a
long distance, in a crowded store, at a function with many people, and yes, even on stage singing a song
in front of a crowd, and I will think, “Look what I can do! Wheeeeee! Thank you God!” I still have that proud
feeling that I can take care of things and also be a help to others. The 3 year old little girl has finally grown
up!
All this occurred during my thirties. I often refer to these years as my lost decade, but they weren’t, really.
Those years made me what I am today. Had the Master Builder not molded the clay into what I am today, I
would still be shy, introverted and fear would still be my constant companion. I know that He has not
finished molding me, as life is a constant growing process and now I accept and look at everything in a
different light. Life has become such a wonderful adventure. Every new day is a new beginning. Finally.
| By Luella May |
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