Panic attacks like muscle memory
Why is my brain trying to ruin the good in my life right now?
I’ve been getting this overwhelming feeling of heaviness pretty consistently over the past few weeks. It sits mainly in my chest and throat, making it feel like I have a thousand pounds of weight crushing me and preventing me from getting any air. It also comes with an upset stomach, nausea, and this invisible feeling of impending doom. Then, the tears start and before I know it, I’m in a state of full blown panic.
Most recently, it happened when I was going to pick up dinner on Saturday evening. As I crawled into the passenger side of my parents’ Ford Edge, I could feel the shortness of breath and nausea start to set in and began worrying that I’d quickly wind up in that aforementioned state of panic. As we got to the restaurant, I got out of the vehicle and took a deep breath of the cool air that surrounded me. I was able to make it through. That night, as the panic set in again, I went for a walk outside thinking maybe I was onto something from earlier. I was, and I slept like a baby.
But this piece isn’t about how to manage panic attacks as it may seem. This piece is about why the panic attacks are happening in the first place.
There’s this episode of Sex and the City where Carrie keeps waking up in the middle of the night in a panic but can’t seem to identify the culprit. After some internal searching, she realizes that she was so used to be in a problematic relationship that when she was in a healthy one, her body couldn’t comprehend it and resorted to distress, almost like muscle memory.
I couldn’t help but think of this reference as I try to navigate my own unknown feelings of anxiety. Ever since I stepped away from being an influencer, life has been pretty good. I am once again working on causes and initiatives that mean a lot to me. I’m doing better at my day job. I’m pursuing more education and have some pretty exciting freelance opportunities coming up that I’m thankful for. I’m sleeping better. I’m spending more time with family. Life is good. So why the fuck is my brain trying to ruin it for me?
Maybe I’m experiencing a Carrie Bradshaw. Maybe, like muscle memory, I was so used to being in a state of distress from the constant pressure of social media that now that my body can actually relax, it doesn’t know how to process it. It really makes me wonder just how bad things were for me before I made the decision to step away from influencing. Maybe it was worse than I thought and these remaining panic attacks are simply an echo from the past reminding me of how far I’ve actually come.
Nevertheless, I will persist…
Panic can persist after stressful environments end because the nervous system has learned to anticipate threat even in safer conditions. When someone has been functioning under chronic performance pressure, the absence of that pressure can initially feel disorienting rather than relieving. What looks like the mind “sabotaging” progress is often a lag between external change and internal recalibration. Over time, consistent experiences of stability usually retrain physiological responses, but the transition period can feel confusing and discouraging. Recognizing these reactions as conditioned responses rather than evidence of regression can reduce secondary anxiety about the symptoms themselves.