Jun, 2024
*TRIGGER WARNING - this article is about mental health problems. If you are struggling right now I recommend you skip it or come back for it later.
Warum ich diesen Artikel schreibe? Weil psychische Probleme und Erkrankungen ernstgenommen und verstanden werden sollen. Es fühlt sich komisch an, solch private Erfahrungen zu veröffentlichen, sodass jeder es lesen kann. Dennoch fühlt es sich auch richtig an. Ich habe meine Panikattacken mittlerweile recht gut im Griff und kann ganz gut damit leben. Aber am Anfang brach die Welt für mich zusammen. Vielleicht liest das ja jemand, der sich damit besser verstanden und weniger alleine fühlt. Außerdem will ich ehrlich sein – und ehrlich ist nun einfach nicht immer schön. Aber es ist echt. Es gibt mehr als genug Masken und Verpacktes auf der Welt, und ich will nichts davon sein.
I have been dealing - or trying to, at least - with panic attacks for the last couple of months. It washed over me like a wave, and from one day to the next I was unable to be alone and in peace. I could feel normal, and within a second, without any specific trigger, I would be certain that right now is when I would die.
It’s the day before my trip. I am going, no matter what.
I felt fine. I was pretty calm at the airport, pretty calm on the flight. At least until the flight attendant woke me up and I was so shocked because I had my noise cancelling headphones on. She gave me a little bag filled with a small bottle of wine, some snacks and some chocolate and apologized that she didn‘t realize earlier that it was my birthday today. So they actually do know who is on their flight. Such a sweet gesture.
On the bus to Shkoder, I did feel a little pressure in the chest. Walking around town I knew I had to turn back and rest because otherwise I would start panicking again. I felt completely safe, and I knew I was. But that’s the thing. My panic is irrational and no matter how sure I am of this, it’s still there and it still feels hella real. That’s what makes it so hard to deal with.
The next day was another travel day. 2 hours on a bus, 3 on a ferry and the another one on a bus to get me to Valbone, the start of the hike I’ve been wanting to do since I the last time I was in Albania 2 years ago. We stayed at the sweetest little guesthouse with the sweetest hosts, and I felt like I could finally breathe again. I loved the quiet, and the mountains, and especially that there was nothing to do except read my book and talk to people and watch the guys play football.
Then it was the day of the hike. My heartbeat got super quick right from the start. Partly because I was motivated and started off way too fast on a fairly steep bit, and partly because my body can’t differentiate whether my heartbeat is faster because of exercise or because of panic. I couldn‘t control it. I don’t understand it, because I have been training and hiking for years and I have had way more workouts than I have had panic attacks. I couldn‘t control my breathing. And of course I was too proud to tell anyone, so I simply kept walking by myself, hoping I would be able to do it. I was no faster than a turtle, one foot in front of the other, again and again, stopping every couple of paces. I must have looked pretty done because a girl that passed me seemed quite concerned when she asked me if I was okay. „I will be“, I told her, and tried my best to smile.
The whole way I was fighting back panic attacks. „Please just not now“, I hoped, as there was no option for me but to continue. I must have had 3 or 4, perhaps 5, short ones but it’s still so exhausting. The fighting them back, and the panicking, too.
I passed a corner and the trail got flatter. I couldn‘t see or hear anyone, all I saw was the rocky peaks towering above me and the cool breeze on my face. I felt so small and as did my problems. I sat down in the shade, took in the view, and started sobbing. I could no longer hold back the tears, and I didn’t want to. I was at the right place, at the right time, and where else would you rather cry your eyes out than alone in the middle of the mountains. Minutes passed and I felt the weight on my chest get lighter and lighter by the second. I found the perfect cry spot and I sure made the best of it.
As I finally felt ready to continue, I had a smile on my face because I realized I could breathe, at last. I was walking up the rest of the mountain at normal speed, which is still slow, but I knew I was back. For now, at least. Half an hour later I met the rest of the group at the top.
It wasn‘t the physically hardest hike I‘ve done. Which made it even harder at first to walk this slow, but I needed to, and I knew i wouldn‘t be able to make it all the way if I hadn‘t done that. I had to push away every last bit of pride, motivation, the pressure I put on my myself. The latter surely being the hardest.
The next morning I felt fine, until at breakfast I overheard someone talking about a guy in their room throwing up all night. I knew it was because of last nights drinks which I had none, but I felt anxious and I couldn‘t stop my head from rattling. I started spiraling and decided to take my emergency medicine which I always have on me these days, also a paper bag in case I hyperventilate. Travel essentials change a lot when you are dealing with a mental illness that is uncontrollable and your wellbeing can change so drastically within a matter of seconds. The view of the mountains that I was enjoying so much just a minute ago started blurring, the noises of people around me were drowned out be the non-existing sound of my own mind spinning and going to places I didn‘t want it to but had no control over.
I slept most of the 3 hours on the way back. That was when I decided to cut my trip short. It was supposed to be 10 days, and I was only 4 days in. There was just no point. There is no point in being here right now when I have to carefully weigh out every single thing I do. Will it be good for me or might it be too much?
I thought it would feel like a failure, going home early. But it didn’t. I was going into this knowing very well that I am not okay, but I wanted to try it anyway. I made the best I could at the time. I didn’t fail. I won. I have learned a lot, mostly and most importantly that traveling still is something I truly enjoy. It simply wasn’t the right time, and that’s okay.
