Not in a million years would I know what dying would feel like.
At least I was convinced I was. Early in September my poor husband Simon, broke his hand. One week later, the night before his operation, I suffered a horrendous anxiety attack.

For a number of months I've not felt right. The glands in my throat became swollen and I was laid out for nearly a week.
My family have suffered my intense irritable moods and I just didn't know what the hell I was doing in all areas of my life. The only thing I did know, was that I was overdoing it.
Exhausted on this particular evening, (probably through concern over Simon's operation), an innocent nap turned into shocking wake-up call, where all my fears suddenly coursed through my body. I felt as if I was poisoned and something electric was buzzing through my bloodstream.

That was it, either the ambulance come take me away or I was going to collapse any time soon, from what I wasn't sure and would I recover in time to sort the kids the next morning?
Thankfully the NHS Direct helpline could talk me through symptoms even whilst I was heavy breathing down the phone to the poor nurse.
After 40 minutes I still didn't feel right, I had to call the emergency G.P. as well. Even with the G.P.'s understanding nature, I was given the same advice and slowly but surely (at least by 11pm) I fell into an exhausted sleep. The amount of adrenalin released must have been some kind of panacea.

Awake the next morning, I dragged my feeble self through the morning routine of taking the children to school. Though, this was the day of Simon's operation. I found myself trembling intensely all the way to his appointment at theatre. There was little respite for the rest of the day, running to and from school, then hospital again.

I was rigid with fear for the next 3 weeks. I was continually having waves of indistinguishable energy rising through me, heart palpitations and feelings of detachment. Nothing felt real anymore and it felt like I had a warning, that a real showdown might happen and it wasn't going to be pretty.

Anxiety is an astoundingly common condition and that it can happen to anyone. Yes, I've had anxiety before and even post-traumatic stress disorder. But nothing like this.

After a few days, I became accustomed to the signs and with talking to the doctors a few times as well as friends, I felt a little better day by day. I still felt worried about falling asleep as I kept waking up suddenly fraught that my heart had stopped. I had blood tests and an ECG (electro-cardiogram) test. All came back fine. I even had an App on my phone that would measure my heart rate, I was that worried! (Even though what I yearned for was a stethoscope to hear my heart and be absolutely sure).

So all was left was to think through the causes of the anxiety and strip all my issues right down, then start again. Oh and drop the coffee outright.
A friend gave me a book to focus on. Whilst an interesting read and with exercises to perform, it seems to compliment a new and positive outlook. I see it as a gift from her and to you Miss L, I love and thank you.
My poor darling husband did not have much of a nurse whilst he was recovering from his operation. Can we look back and find humour in this fiasco? I hope so. We've just had our 6th wedding anniversary and we were both ready to laugh again. We'll both be our best soon.

So if it was certain issues and the busy-ness in my life that had caused the anxiety in me, I stayed silent online. I will not give any more of my silly self until it is time.

As my Mother fondly told me with the K.I.S.S. - Keep it Simple, Stupid!

So I shall.