Thank you to everyone who has posted here; I don't have many coping techniques on hand. Laughter, though, has definitely helped during some hard times.
in response to the OP:
the worst panic attack that I've had wasn't necessarily the most intense, though it was intense, but the circumstances that followed it make it one of my one or two worst experiences with anxiety overall. At that time leaving the house would bring on panic unless I was already feeling more or less even, or close to it, in a car, and then only in the company of a certain few people, but on one particular day, after a week not going any further than the porch, (" when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom," so to speak) I decided to force myself out to a place I was very familiar with, figuring that if I could get through the wort part of it myself,I'd be making headway. This had been a huge help once before, and i hoped it would do something like that again.
Once I was about three streets and four (?) blocks from home, however, I would turn around almost every half block, turn back, turn around, and keep going. When I was almost in sight of the place I was overwhelmed. i couldn't take another step and found myself lying down on a median. The combination of being exposed, agoraphobic, in the middle of a panic attack, and now humiliated in realizing that the whole city could come and watch me lie there was (to say the least) mutually reinforcing.There wasn't much to really do there: I'd been hyperventilating long enough i was dizzy sitting upright. it'd probably be true to say that I didn't do anything other than try to consider how to remove myself from that spot and get back to the house. I wasn't actually helpless but it definitely felt that way. Occasionally someone would drive by and flail around. I tried to flag down one person, who shook his/her head and sort of "shoo"ed me with his/her hand. I'm not sure how long I stayed on the median and don't trust my sense of time (between the situation and how much time has passed since), but still, twenty minutes would not be an exaggeration. Eventually someone pulled to the curb and asked me if I needed help. I told her that I did, and what my plan had been; she ended up taking me home. She responded calmly and with understanding when I told her what was happening, then and generally.
I'm still grateful to her. And still embarrassed.
in response to the OP:
the worst panic attack that I've had wasn't necessarily the most intense, though it was intense, but the circumstances that followed it make it one of my one or two worst experiences with anxiety overall. At that time leaving the house would bring on panic unless I was already feeling more or less even, or close to it, in a car, and then only in the company of a certain few people, but on one particular day, after a week not going any further than the porch, (" when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom," so to speak) I decided to force myself out to a place I was very familiar with, figuring that if I could get through the wort part of it myself,I'd be making headway. This had been a huge help once before, and i hoped it would do something like that again.
Once I was about three streets and four (?) blocks from home, however, I would turn around almost every half block, turn back, turn around, and keep going. When I was almost in sight of the place I was overwhelmed. i couldn't take another step and found myself lying down on a median. The combination of being exposed, agoraphobic, in the middle of a panic attack, and now humiliated in realizing that the whole city could come and watch me lie there was (to say the least) mutually reinforcing.There wasn't much to really do there: I'd been hyperventilating long enough i was dizzy sitting upright. it'd probably be true to say that I didn't do anything other than try to consider how to remove myself from that spot and get back to the house. I wasn't actually helpless but it definitely felt that way. Occasionally someone would drive by and flail around. I tried to flag down one person, who shook his/her head and sort of "shoo"ed me with his/her hand. I'm not sure how long I stayed on the median and don't trust my sense of time (between the situation and how much time has passed since), but still, twenty minutes would not be an exaggeration. Eventually someone pulled to the curb and asked me if I needed help. I told her that I did, and what my plan had been; she ended up taking me home. She responded calmly and with understanding when I told her what was happening, then and generally.
I'm still grateful to her. And still embarrassed.