I have experienced anxiety. I knew it at the time. It’s pretty obvious; at least it was to me. It wasn’t right away, it took a few events spanning over a year to really throw me into the throws of panic, but it finally did happen.
I should start this story at the beginning. I was at work. It was a beautiful fall day in the DC metro area. I was on the 30th floor of my building, in a meeting with my boss. Someone walked by the door and said “a plane hit the twin towers”. It seemed like such a strange statement, although I don’t know why, but we only paused from our business briefly. A quick search on a news site didn’t tell us anything, so we continued with our meeting. “Two planes hit the twin towers”. Well that will stop you in your tracks. Off to a nearby office with a TV, we watched the horror unfold. Like the rest of the world. But soon our experiences were very different than the rest of the world.
“Oh my god, the Pentagon is on fire” screams my coworker. Our building in Roslyn, VA was about 2 miles from the Pentagon. We did not see that unfold on TV. We saw it out our window. My boss, the patriarch of our business unit, realized this was an ‘event’ and calmly directed everyone to leave the 30th floor. Soon after, the Arlington Fire Department, over the speaker system, asked everyone to evacuate the building.
Some things are blurry at this point. I know I didn’t leave. I went to my office on the 6th floor. I tried to call my family in NY, but obviously the lines weren’t working. I shot an email out to every relative I have that had email, saying if you speak to my family, I am fine, if they speak to you, please let me know they are fine… I was most concerned about my brother and sister in law in Manhattan. I was also beginning to worry about my colleagues in our mid town office as well as my friends who had friends and family at the Pentagon. Then worrying about everyone.
Of course, being the IT Manager I went into business continuity mode and began making sure our disaster recovery systems would kick into affect if we could not get back into this office the next day. I would take brief peeks at the TV in the Production room, where all the managers and directors were piled in. But once the first tower fell, I couldn’t watch anymore. I remembered a drawing I made my mother when I was a kid, it was of the twin towers and other buildings in NYC, and it said something like “Nothing beats the New York skyline”. I wondered where that picture was. I still do. When I finally did leave the building, somewhat by force by the FD, there were soldiers in the streets with automatic weapons, and fighter jets flew over head. This was 1 of the 2 most surreal moments I would experience over the next 12 months. The next couple days were stressful. But this is not when I started to have anxiety. Not even close.
My everyone was ok. Everyone had there stories. My cousin walked through the city from downtown to Brooklyn, some people were evacuated from their homes b/c of possible contamination, one acquaintance from college lost her fiancé on flight 93.
That is my 9/11 story. But that is not where this story ends.
In the spring of 2002, things were different. Security at our building, b/c USA TODAY was considered a potential target, was ramped up. I didn’t mind. I was attending a conference at our building. I was over in Tower 1, having dinner with the other conference attendees. I decided to go to my office and shut down my computer,etc, so I could leave straight after the meetings were done. It was probably around 6pm. I walked over to Tower 2, where my office was. It was located on the 6th floor, which was actually the ground level. I never really minded the location, although others complained. It was back in a dingy part of the building, near the mailroom and shipping bay.
Anyway, I went through security, used my badge to open the double doors and I walk almost smack into a man wearing full hazmat gear. He was covered head to toe, even with duct tape around his ankles and wrists. I was stopped in my tracks. I ask, “Can I be here?” He looked at me, somewhat carelessly and said, “yeah, you’re fine.” Huh. I didn’t feel fine. I definitely did not feel fine. This was quite possibly the most unfine I ever felt. A day or so after this I found out there was a suspicious envelope of white powdery substance sent to an editor at USA TODAY. It was not anthrax. Um, good. Without a doubt in my mind I can say that was the scariest moment, as in I felt in personal danger, I had ever, and still to this day have ever experienced. But surprisingly- still wasn’t having anxiety attacks.
October 2002, over a year after 9/11, the straw that broke my panic attack free back- a little thing we fondly refer to now as the DC Sniper. Yeah, that guy (or guys as it turned out). I know people heard stories. The press really did make it sound worse then it was. We weren’t afraid to go outside. That is silly. Getting gasoline though, hmm, that was a little scary. One afternoon I was heading to work, Route 50 around Bailey’s Crossroads (yes- where that one woman was shot in the Home Depot parking lot). I was looking around the streets and noticed a white van (that was what we were supposed to be on the look out for) in the turn lane to my left. It wasn’t turning though; it was just sitting there. I freaked out. I didn’t know if I should drive on, if it had a bomb on it, if the guy was gonna pull out his rifle and shoot someone. The traffic was bad, so I continued to sit, staring at this van. More and more, deep in me some horrible feeling. What is this feeling… oh, it’s anxiety. Huh. Well the van put its signal on and pulled back into the main road. I guess that wasn’t his street. I know he doesn’t know what he triggered in me…. But that was the event.
They weren’t panic attacks, per se. Just full time anxiety. Hard to function anxiety. I made my little emergency kit in my house (a milk crate full of essentials). I taped up my windows and all the other ridiculously silly things the government was telling us to do. I had no rational thoughts left about the imminent danger I was in. I was scared. All the time.
Finally drugs took care of it. And it’s gone now. Drug and anxiety free is me. At least that kind of anxiety. And in retrospect, I don’t feel like there was any way I wasn’t going to have that happen to me, mentally. Those were crazy days. Times are still insane in a lot of respects, but I am glad I made it through that storm.
My story, on anxiety.
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