There were a number of stories that didn't make it into the book.  Here's one of my favorites:

Second Chance
By Doreen, as told to Jenna Glatzer

When I was in the third grade, I was supposed to play in a school concert.  Never mind actually performing in front of an audience; I fainted in the practice room.  Actually fainted.  I was a timid child, and the fear overwhelmed me. 

I was the youngest of four children in my family.  It wasn’t intentional on my parents’ part, but I felt like the “forgotten child.”  There weren’t baby pictures of me around the house.  They had stopped doing the special things they did for my older sisters.  Now that I’m a parent, I understand the way that happens, but as a child, I took it personally.

The panic disorder came on full-force when I was 22.  I had just started dating Hank, the man who would become my husband.  He was touring in the Navy, so we had a long-distance relationship.  He wanted a commitment, and was very patient with me as I changed my mind day to day and letter to letter.  One letter would say, “I love you, I miss you,” and the next would say, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to stay together.” 

He had just come out of shore duty, and another couple joined us in Pennsylvania to tour the city.  We went to a restaurant, and all of a sudden, all I can tell you is that the world was about to fade to black.  I clung to the table, my knees buckling under me, and I said, “I have to get out of here.”  Hank and I went back to the hotel, leaving our friends there because they had already ordered.

I thought it was a one-time incident.  Maybe I was just ill.  But it began happening on a regular basis, with or without Hank in my company.

I worked in a bank for 18 years.  Right out of high school, I began in a position about a step up from “mail clerk,” and gained more responsibilities as the years went on.  I remember being in line at the bank, and those familiar feelings would hit; the world would seem to spin, I was dizzy and sweaty, and I’d feel as if I was about to pass out.  I’d have to leave the line and walk out of the bank, without a word to the people around me.  Everything was crashing down around me.

I kept asking doctors, “Am I having a nervous breakdown?”  They never gave me a straight answer.  I went to see every kind of doctor for every kind of test you could imagine.  I saw allergists, neurologists, endocrinologists, chiropractors, ear, nose and throat doctors, I had an MRI done… everyone came back with the same results.  Aside from a thyroid condition that I’d had all my life, nothing was physically wrong with me.

At work, I started having episodes of crying for no good reason.  I’d cry uncontrollably, and that’s what finally got my butt to a psychologist. 

For the first five years of psychotherapy, it was like a Ziggy cartoon.  I lied on a couch, and a man in a suit stood behind me.  He was apathetic, and wasn’t helping me much, but I was so desperate that I hung in there in hopes that something would change.

My immediate family knew what was happening, but I think parents have a natural tendency to feel responsible when something goes “wrong” with their children.  They didn’t understand, and I certainly didn’t open up to other people about this.  In my career, my persona was everything, and I feared it would compromise others’ opinions of me if they knew I had an anxiety disorder.

I didn’t get to the point in which I stopped leaving the house, but I did pick and choose where I would go, what time of day, and circumstances under which I could or couldn’t handle outings.  I hated movie theatres, but if I did go, I had to have an aisle seat.  Broadway shows were the worst, because people were so packed together.  Having an escape route was very important to me, and I was constantly scanning rooms for exits.  I was very aware of my surroundings and the people around me.  I was lucky that Hank understood and never berated me for it.  If I had to leave somewhere, he’d say, “So, you had to leave.  Big deal.”  But, in the same manner, he didn’t coddle me.  He was very patient, and gave me the gentle nudges I needed to tell me that life had to go on.

On our honeymoon, we were supposed to go to Jamaica. I was so terrified of the flight and the distance that I manipulated the situation.  We were paying for our own wedding, so I said, “Why don’t we save some money and go to the Poconos instead?”  I wasn’t trying to save money-- I was saving myself from anxiety!  It’s funny to me now, but it wasn’t then.  Then, it was life.

I got a major promotion at my job, and became an operational manager in charge of a department of 140-180 people.  My job involved a lot of public speaking.  I successfully manipulated those situations, too!  I was close with my bosses, and without telling them why I didn’t want to get up in front of people, I’d find ways to make it more comfortable.  I wouldn’t speak first; I’d make sure that other people were scheduled before me so I’d have time to prepare. 

Finally, I found a therapist who changed my world.  He was like Judd Hirsch’s character in “Ordinary People”-- he was a real person in blue jeans, who sat next to me and talked face-to-face, and gave me real answers.  As a former drug addict, he had battled his own demons, so he had “walked the walk.”  He educated me about anxiety.  I always thought I was just crazy, but he helped me to call a spade a spade and work my way through this in a positive way.

While I was working through my anxiety, I had to do a lot of flying for business meetings.  The years I took off my life worrying about planes!  When I was young, my father partly owned a plane, and I was flying over Fire Island with him when I spotted another small plane out the window.  It was a very close call; small planes don’t have advanced radar detection, so I had to alert my father.  I wonder now if that’s what caused my fear of flying.  Take-offs and landings didn’t bother me so much; it was while we were in the air that I got nervous, thinking, “How do they know where we’re going?  How do they know we’re not going to hit another plane?”

By accident, I got over this fear one day when I went to pick a friend up at an airport.  I got there early, and I sat there, watching planes take off and land, take off and land, over and over.  Soon, I realized… all of these flights, and none of them had crashed.  Then I thought, “This is just one small airport.  I wonder how many major airports there are in the world, where the same thing is happening all day, every day.”  Something “clicked” in my head, and I no longer had to self-medicate with alcohol before getting on a plane.  I worked through it by educating myself.

My therapist became a mentor for me, showing me new ways to think about things and new ways to react when I felt anxiety coming on.  Slowly but surely, I got better.  My recovery took ten years.  Ten years of talking about feelings and emotions that were once repressed, of being convinced that, come hell or high water, I wasn’t going to let this thing beat me. 

I felt my recovery was in jeopardy once when I began meeting with senior level managers at my job.  I felt like an impostor-- I hadn’t even gone to college, and here I was, in a position with highly educated and powerful people.  The anxiety started coming on again.  Even though I had been opposed to medication for years, I had enough trust in my therapist that when he advised me to go on Zoloft, I listened.  He explained that my brain had been in “fight or flight” mode for so long that the chemicals in my brain had been trained for that.  The medication would bring things back to normal.

Well, right after I started taking the pills, I had an attack in the bathroom at work.  I called my therapist and yelled at him.  “I thought you said this was supposed to make me better!”  We had to talk through it, and I realized how much anxiety I had about taking the medication and possibly becoming addicted to it.  I wasn’t a “drug person.”  Sure enough, though, when I gave it time, it took the edge off and allowed me to function again.

I went to support group meetings, and discovered two different kinds of people.  Some are the “negative people”-- the ones who wallow in their misery and keep you down with them.  It’s so important to steer clear of those people.  You can’t let anyone drag you down when you’re looking for hope.  I had to align myself with the “winners,” finding good friends who’d walked in my shoes and understood what I was going through.  As I became stronger, I kept going to the meetings even when I didn’t need to anymore, because I knew I could give other people hope.

There was no special science to my recovery.  I just kept learning, talking, becoming more open and honest, and finding new ways to deal with my anxiety.  When I feel anxiety coming on now, I know that I can get on a treadmill, talk about it, and work it out.  I take the time I need to compose myself.

Once, I had been interviewing candidates at work, and felt I was tanking.  I told an associate to sit in for me and that I’d be back in a few minutes.  I went out to the parking garage, sat in my car, away from people, and went through a meditation process.  Fifteen minutes later, I was ready to take on the world again. 

It’s so nice today to see people coming out and talking about this problem.  Donny Osmond, Tipper Gore, people on television commercials… they’re helping to let people know that there are millions of us in the world, going through the same thing.  The more honest we can all be, the better off we’ll be, and the more people will realize they’re not alone.

My anxiety was no mistake.  I went through so long wondering, “Why me?”  Now I look at is as being chosen.  I’m a better person for it.  I appreciate things more.  It’s so important to me now to help other people, and let people see that anxiety disorders don’t have to last forever.  Pat yourself on the back for every small accomplishment you make, and soon, you’ll get to a point in which you don’t even think about it anymore.

I just came back from a vacation to Florida with my family, and I was standing on line at a crowded buffet when it hit me: I could never have done this before.  But, there I was, walking through the whole cafeteria, not even thinking about panicking.  I still appreciate every one of those moments.

It has been five years since I had a panic attack.  I know now that I was given a gift-- a second chance-- and I don’t make light of that.  I am here to remind people that there is hope, there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and there is life after panic disorder.  Feel that fear, do it anyway, fight back, and win.  You can do it.

My husband and I run an Internet-based business, selling baseball and other collectible memorabilia.  You can visit us on the Web at www.jammemorabilia.com.

Dr. Paul Foxman's Commentary on "Second Chance"

In this story, Doreen tells us about an anxiety disorder that was misdiagnosed and unsuccessfully treated. She consulted many medical specialists for her panic anxiety and agoraphobia, all of whom missed the boat. I am saddened to learn that Doreen spent five years in psychotherapy with a psychologist, with no noticeable improvement. How should psychotherapy for anxiety be conducted, and how long does it take to benefit from this form of treatment?

As a psychologist specializing in anxiety treatment, I begin each case with a diagnostic interview. I ask a set of questions regarding symptoms (type, frequency, and duration), background history, current life circumstances, medical status, previous therapy—in short, I conduct a comprehensive assessment. One of my goals is to diagnose the condition as soon as possible. This may involve a medical evaluation to rule out any physical basis for the condition (most of my anxiety patients have already seen a doctor or were actually referred by their doctor).

Once the diagnosis is apparent, I offer reassurance that recovery from anxiety—however severe or chronic—is possible with appropriate help. I use my own case as an example, if appropriate, or describe other examples of successful recovery. I also focus on establishing trust and rapport, since a good working relationship is essential when dealing with anxiety. I usually end the first interview by outlining a treatment plan, and ask if there are any questions. I suggest that some thought be given to my recommendations, to be discussed in more detail at the next appointment.

In my opinion, anxiety therapy is most effective when conducted by a specialist who understands the need for structure, reassurance, and guidance. An active therapist who can educate, teach new skills, provide homework suggestions, and answer questions, is more likely to be helpful than a nondirective therapist. Generally speaking, this means a therapist with “anxiety credentials”—someone with special training or personal familiarity with anxiety.

I think of psychotherapy as a collaborative process in which each party—therapist and patient—have a set of responsibilities that must be fulfilled in order for treatment to be successful. The therapist is responsible for conducting a proper assessment, making an accurate diagnosis, and developing an appropriate treatment plan. In turn, the patient is responsible for following through with treatment recommendations, including practice between sessions, keeping appointments, and communicating openly. Many patients are impatient and want immediate results, so I caution against making premature judgments or becoming discouraged. On the other hand, you should know within approximately two months if you are benefiting.

Unfortunately, what I have described above is not what many anxiety sufferers experience when they seek professional help. If you are involved in therapy for anxiety and feel it is not working, you should discuss your concerns with your therapist, or discontinue and seek alternatives. Do not repeat Doreen’s frustration by waiting five years for improvement.

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