panic & beyond

---

Photo credit: Pexels from Pixabay

let the panic begin...

My partnership with plants began in earnest in 2004 following a rapid-fire series of "unfortunate events." During the autumn of that year my grandfather was actively dying from cancer, I had to euthanize my dog, and I was chosen to serve on a jury. They were all difficult events, obviously, but of those things death was the easiest for me to handle. Personally, I don't see death as a villain or an end, but often a welcome release from a breaking and pain-riddled body. So while it was a sad time, it was also an inevitable and natural part of an old man's (and an old dog's) life.

Jury duty, however, was a whole different story. Handing me someone's life and telling me that I had to decide what would happen to it next was, for me, horrible. The intense responsibility I felt about getting it "right" meant that virtually every day ended with a horrific, nausea-inducing migraine. They were absolutely crippling, and the only way to remedy them was to crawl gratefully into bed each evening before the sun had even set. This crawling-into-bed routine lasted for the duration of the trial (after about two weeks we did find him guilty of rape, btw), except for one night. Instead of bed, on this particular evening my sister, my migraine, and I made the hour-long trek to visit my grampa. He was having a "good" day and was able to sit up in his rocking chair briefly to visit with us. I didn't know it at the time, but this was our goodbye. It was the last time I would see him alive.

All of these big and coinciding events (coupled with chronic migraines) meant that the STRESS in my life was significant. Had my stressors stopped here, however, I probably would have been perfectly fine. I'm strong. Emotionally resilient. Generally tough as nails and always willing to sift through my difficulties to find the silver lining that's inevitably lurking within. But, sadly, things didn't stop here. There was one more "unfortunate event" left to unfold, and this one was fierce enough to send an already stressed-out me toppling. It knocked me down, kicked the breath out of me, and then continued to pummel me so hard and for so long that it was many, many years before I was able to feel fully myself again.

That one more thing? I had a wisdom tooth removed. (Kind of anti-climactic, I know.) Following the extraction, I steadfastly resisted taking the antibiotic prescribed because the warnings on the label scared the hell out of me. But when I found myself in the emergency room due to the escalating mouth pain, the doctor sternly told me I wasn't leaving until I'd taken the first dose. Holding up that tiny tablet, I eyed it with resignation before saying aloud to everyone in the room: Bad things will happen if I take this pill. And then what did I do? I swallowed the damn thing down.

And bad things did happen, for a very long time (although it was a superb lesson in trusting my intuition). I have since read in a couple of different sources that that particular antibiotic should never be taken my mouth because of the likelihood of significant side effects. Side effects that effectively wiped my intestinal track clean of all helpful bacteria and allowed a not-so-helpful one to proliferate, wreaking havoc. Before I'd even managed to heal the physical damage caused by that run of antibiotics, the mental/emotional ones began to emerge. My descent into panic disorder was quick, terrifying, and relentless. I had absolutely no idea how to stop it and neither, I quickly realized, did my doctors.

two pressing questions

I started with the conventional route. My primary care physician was fantastic and his calm and reassuring bedside manner had seen me through three childbirths (two of which were natural) and countless other things throughout the years. While I deeply respected him, he couldn't answer my two most pressing questions. 1. Why had this happened? 2. How did I make it stop?

Pseudomembraneous colitis. IBS. Endless Panic attacks. Spells of agoraphobia. Chronic loss of appetite. A constant feeling like I was being strangled (this actually has a name: globus hystericus). A host of often very painful intestinal issues. I saw multiple doctors--conventional, homeopathic, naturopathic. I visited multiple therapists. I made several trips to the hospital for procedures and tests. And what did it all tell me? Nothing. Nothing helpful, anyway. The most I was offered were prescription meds to maybe address the symptoms, but no help as to permanent healing nor the cause of it all. After several years I was forced to realize that if I was going to heal, the responsibility lay solely with me. But where to even begin?

books as my guide

Books seemed the most obvious choice. I'd always been a lover of fiction, but now my focus changed radically. Non-fiction, info-packed books became my go-to, and I voraciously devoured any that I suspected might be helpful. Spiritually, I was quickly led to meditation, and I began a daily practice. I discovered that it was the only place (besides sleep) where I found temporary peace from the relentless state of terror that had taken up residence in my mind and body. In those meditations I held onto an image of myself as I had been prior to panic--whole, healthy, and strong. I had absolutely no idea how I would get there (and thankfully, I wasn't privy to how very long it would take), but I was determined to find myself again. I wasn't satisfied with just that, however, because I wanted to be a better version of myself--in all ways--than I'd been prior to panic. Meditation was just the beginning though, and I also launched an intentional, systematic, and ruthless dismantling of my life.

Books were illuminating a path to me, a natural path, that I strongly resonated with. All of the chemicals in my home were immediately tossed, sometimes even before I'd found a replacement. I began making all of my own household cleaners, all of my own make-up, shampoo, and body care products (not yet soap!). Slowly but surely, I even began to swap out all of the synthetic clothing I wore for those of natural fabrics (often thrifted). I found safe paints and stains and varnishes. I began using biodegradable garbage bags, storage bags, sandwich bags. I replaced our beds and our couches with those made of organic materials not drenched in toxic chemicals. The learning really felt endless and steep for many years, but I plugged along, determined and continually prodded by my constant companion, panic. Steadily, my life got cleaner and cleaner and even though it didn't heal my panic, it brought me into a place of harmony with our planet. This transformation eased my mind in a way I hadn't known needed easing.

radical changes

My journey also (obviously?) included the food I was eating. First went the no-brainers like hydrogenated fats, high fructose corn syrup, artificial colors/flavors/preservatives, and processed foods. As I adjusted to each new stage, another one would appear until in 2007, I decided to make the commitment to becoming vegetarian. Several years after that, I transitioned to vegan.

Along the way I became a master at reading labels and discovered some very valuable things, such as while MSG wasn't the cause of my panic disorder, it did consistently trigger panic attacks. The problem with avoiding MSG lies in the fact that it's hidden under a variety of innocuous sounding names (like natural flavors) and in some pesticides/fertilizers, and so at this point I was left with little choice but to start purchasing only organic where the use of MSG is prohibited; organic foods were/are pricey, but it hands-down beat the alternative. Step by step, the food part of my journey unfolded. There were definitely missteps along the way, and the learning continues to this day, but I've been an organic whole food vegan for fifteen or so years now, and it--just like cleaning phase--brought an unexpected "rightness" to my life.

All of these changes did definitely improve my health (eventually), but I still didn't have an answer to my two burning questions of Why? and How to heal? There were spells when the panic would recede to a dull roar and I'd start to feel some flickers of peace again, but they never endured for long. Stress would always toss me back in again, sometimes deeper than ever before. 2014 brought one of the most intense panic spells (and the final of my kitchen breakdowns), but unknown to me at the time, it would be the last spell of such intensity. After a decade of suffering and searching, I was now finally getting closer and would soon begin to climb up and out, battle-scared and weary, but still hopeful that answers and healing could be mine.

In the name of "brevity" (too late for that?), I'll just gloss over the years between 2014-2020. It's not that I wasn't still learning because I definitely was, and one of the most important things to come out of those years was a somewhat antiquated book by Dr. Claire Weekes called Hope and Help for Your Nerves. It taught me a lot about the physiological processes that were happening in my body and how to stop feeding the panic when it washed over me. With practice, it made a huge difference in my quality of life, but it wasn't until 2020 that I found the first of my real answers. COVID-19 was busy turning the outer world into chaos, but my inner world was experiencing blessed and consistent peace for the first time in well over a decade, all thanks to another book.

how big is this puzzle?

In 2020, I bought Essential Oils Ancient Medicine by Dr. Josh Axe (and co.). I had worked with essential oils for years at that point, and actually my very first introduction came when I was recovering from that fateful tooth extraction and my mom had me gargle with tea tree oil and water. I trusted my mom, but I was still wary of possibly ingesting something that I was pretty sure could kill me. It didn't kill me, clearly, and my journey with oils officially began. Fast forward to my 2020 book purchase and a little recipe tucked away on page 437 for treating leaky gut internally with essential oils. I'm not gonna lie, I was scared (essential oil fear is rampant online, and also largely inaccurate), and so I cut the dosage in half and took it with significant trepidation. Even halved, I noticed a marked difference within one week. ONE. WEEK. After sixteen years of wrestling with the beast of panic, I felt like I was finally onto something. Another piece of my puzzle fell into place (the question remains to be seen: how big of a puzzle am I assembling, though?). And instantly, I fell head-over-heels in love with essential oils.

Photo credit: Silvia from Pixabay

emotional healing tools

Over the next couple of years I studied under Jade Shutes at The School for Aromatic Studies and completed my training and certification up to the highest level--Level 3. I now use and depend on essential oils for all kinds of problems, from the small to the more consequential. Those courses instilled in me the necessary confidence and knowledge to use oils freely--and fearlessly--via the internal route for a wide variety of problems when the situation calls for it. Oils, I would discover, are somehow capable of supporting the body and its systems in ways that inspire deep gratitude and awe in me, and they mark the first real turning point in my battle to understand panic. The root cause of my panic disorder had become clear: the wretched state of my guts. First weakened by stress and then assaulted by the antibiotics, disease was able to take hold. It took me sixteen long years to figure this out, but the person I had envisioned in my meditations for all those years was finally reemerging.

While essential oils had been able to support my digestive tract enough so that my body could begin to heal itself (which is what I believe is happening with all effective healing modalities), I was still left with emotional pain I couldn't seem to erase. Yes, I felt markedly better than I had in years--I was actually living again--but I was still left with significant emotional scarring. The fear and dread of panic returning quietly haunted me and while essential oils could relieve that feeling, they didn't eradicate it. Clearly, there was still more for me to learn.

The next three major pieces of my healing came within the same year and all had to do with addressing my emotional scars; the first to arrive was my introduction and then attunement to Reiki which was nothing short of amazing. I'm very much one of those individuals who's open-minded to trying many things, but if it's going to remain a part of my life, then it needs to prove itself. Unequivocally. My past is littered with all manner of things that failed to prove their truth over time, and I have no problem releasing them and moving on. So I didn't know what to expect (if anything) following my Reiki attunement, but the incredible power of it crackling and flowing from my fingers made me an instant believer (which is extremely rare). At times the heat can become so intense I expect to see sparks. To me it is, in a word, magic. And as I started to explore this energy, it began to explore me and really ramped up the process of my emotional healing. After being attuned to the highest level of Reiki, there's a six month emotional cleansing time, and I'm not about to lie and say it was easy. But what it was? Effective. And in those tumultuous six months, I was led to my next important puzzle piece: Edward Bach's flower essences.

Just as I'd done withe essential oils, Reiki, and countless other endeavors, I dove into my studies of essences with my typical optimistic-but-prove-it attitude. I'd had some success with homeopathy in the past (and great success with Reiki) so the energetic nature of the essences wasn't a problem for me. I played around on my own for a while, but then enrolled in another formal course for certification (are you beginning to see a pattern here?) under Rose Todd at The Bach Flower School and began experimenting with the essences on a daily basis. Flower essences target the emotions/personality of a person, and not the disease. In fact, the nature of the disease isn't relevant--the individual and their feelings are. I have many future posts planned on this subject so I'll skip the "lesson" right now, but after working with essences for only a brief spell, they were able to help me unravel emotions that I'd been struggling with for years. Interestingly enough, just like with essential oils my first introduction to flower essences had been during my early panic years (thanks again, Mom), but apparently it wasn't yet time for me to fully explore and utilize them until more recently.

The last of those three major emotional pieces also came from... a book. Surprise, surprise. Energy Healing and the Art of Awakening Through Wonder taught the most basic of methods to process emotions, either as they're happening or later, if needed. I'm going to talk more about this in a future post as well because it was, for me, the first time the process of processing emotions had been laid out in such a simple yet effective manner. With this discovery came the realization that there's actually been very little--in my entire life--that I've worked through completely. How easy it is to push is aside those bad emotions to "deal with later," but then never allow that "later" to actually arrive. I found a wall inside of me, behind which lay a Mount Everest of things I'd thought I'd dealt with, but clearly hadn't. Working with these three tools--flower essences, Reiki & Processing--allowed in true happiness to start flowing back into my life like I hadn't felt in years.

with endless patience

And that lands me firmly in the present day. Currently, and hopefully eternally, panic disorder free. If you've never experienced a panic attack, let alone a sustained period of them, then I'm not sure it's possible to convey the sheer hell of it, and I can only say that it's a torture I wouldn't wish on anyone. Do I think my learning is now complete then? Hell no (unless I die before the sun sets...). Because if there's more out there like Reiki, oils, and essences, then I'd love to make their acquaintance (although I'd love it even more if they arrived in a less panic-driven fashion). I'm proud of myself and what I've been able to overcome through patience, persistence, and sheer determination; panic is no small thing and often felt like an insurmountable obstacle.

In spite of it, however, my marriage survived and after 30 years Scott and & I seem to have really found our groove (btw, have you seen our soaps?). I managed to not only raise three girls, but also homeschool them from beginning to end. And through it all, I never gave up. Sure, I had my dark moments when I thought the pain would never end, but eventually I'd pick myself back up and carry on. While I never attempted suicide myself, I can now say that I definitely understand it. Despair--especially when it's unrelenting--can drive a person do things otherwise undreamed of. This was an important realization for me and I think, more than anything else, panic unlocked my capacity to feel deep compassion; it remains one of those precious silver linings that I hope to carry with me forever.

Photo credit: InspiredImages from Pixabay

oh, ye of little faith

I remember at the beginning of my panic days when a friend of mine told me about a conversation she'd had with her doctor about me attempting to understand and heal my panic disorder without medication. This doctor flat-out told her it wasn't possible, that I'd need meds to succeed. That kind of powerless, fatalistic attitude was precisely what I needed to continually fuel my search through those long, hard years. (I got a kick out of that eagle image above because it so accurately portrays my attitude about their prognosis.) Honestly, I think it still fuels me now, even on the other side of panic. I believe the body is designed to heal itself, if we can only get out of its way and offer it the support it needs. The trouble lies in deciphering the messages of the body and then translating them into health-affirming action.

I emphatically do not propose that the route I took is suitable for everyone; my lessons have taught me that life isn't designed like that (humility was a lesson hard-learned). We each have a route that we'll resonate with or be called to travel. But part of my travels involve sharing what I've found helpful in the hopes that it may also help others, especially those lost and struggling as I was. So I decided to take the opportunity to use this space to offer up what I've learned in case it happens to be a part of your puzzle as well. My plans are to share recipes of all kinds, from vegan foods to toothpaste to how I keep my toilet naturally sparkling. I'm getting ready to dive into flower essences as we speak. I intend to share the essential oils that I think every home should have and what to do with them. I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to do with Reiki yet, but definitely something! I make no promises or guarantees, but I invite you to try some on for size. If they don't work, discard them. But if they do? Well then, you just might be in for a wild, exciting, and empowering ride, too.

Much love,

Melinda