From Trades to Tremors: Living on the Edge with Anxiety

The stock market and currency trading took a significant toll on my mental well-being. The constant fluctuations and volatility triggered a roller coaster ride in my brain, turning my chronic worry into full-blown anxiety. My first severe anxiety attack happened in April 2009 during a birthday party for a friend’s son. Until then, I had no idea what anxiety felt like. The symptoms mimicked a heart attack so closely that I was convinced I had a heart problem, which only fed my anxiety further. I was trapped in a vicious cycle where anxiety caused panic attacks, which in turn fed more anxiety. I ended up calling 911 several times during these panic attacks, fearing I was having a heart attack. The randomness of the attacks kept me in a constant state of fear. I dreaded experiencing another one.

One evening, while having dinner at a friend’s house, I felt a wave of anxiety. I stopped eating and went outside for some fresh air. My friend followed and asked, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know yet,” I replied, still counting my pulse.

He sat down and started rubbing my back. “What’s the problem?” he asked.

“I think it’s anxiety. My heartbeat is racing,” I answered anxiously. “Can you please give me some time alone?”

“Sure,” he said, heading back inside.

A few minutes later, the anxiety escalated into a panic attack. I felt like I was about to pass out or have a heart attack. I ran inside and asked my friend to call 911. He did, and soon I heard the siren of an ambulance approaching. I was lying in bed in an inside room when there was a knock at the front door. My friend opened it, and the cop asked, “Who has the medical emergency?”

My friend led him to the room where I was lying. The cop took a good look at me, seemingly trying to recognize me, then took my friend outside and said, “Don’t worry. He’s going to be okay. I’ve been to his apartment with an ambulance before. It’s just an anxiety issue,” the cop reassured my friend.

Well, that was a relief, especially when the paramedics arrived, and I suddenly felt fine. However, I still had this nagging suspicion that something was not right with my heart, so off to the cardiologist I went.

I insisted on performing every heart test known to mankind, and when those tests eliminated any cardiac concerns, they resorted to the pièce de résistance – the Holter monitor test.

I walked around feeling like Robocop’s long-lost cousin until ten days of living the cyborg life later, the cardiologist delivered the verdict: my heart was innocent, and anxiety was the mischievous culprit behind my symptoms.

“But what about the chest pain, tingling fingers, and numbness in my hand?” I pressed, hoping for a diagnosis.

“That’s anxiety. It’s like a prankster, pulling all sorts of tricks on your body. You should meet a psychiatrist,” he replied, scribbling down the name of a psychiatrist.

“But doctor, can’t we use some top-of-the-line heart gadgets and run a few more tests?” I persisted.

At this point, the doctor was not just seeing red lights, he was the red light! He flat-out refused to play along, banning me from the heart-testing rodeo for a solid six months.

Still skeptical of the anxiety angle, I had another meltdown a few days later. I begged Erika to break every traffic rule in the book as we raced to the hospital. I felt I was choking. It was the grand finale of panic attacks, the crown jewel of anxiety. We screeched into the hospital parking lot, and I bolted out of the still-moving car, bursting into the emergency room, and announcing my fears of an imminent cardiac catastrophe. But as soon as I got admitted, my symptoms vanished!

Meanwhile, the nurses were exchanging gossip and giggles over how I could be a prime candidate for the “Most Unlikely Heart Attack Award” in the 28-year-old category.

This was the ultimate wake-up call that hammered home the truth: it wasn’t my heart, but my head playing tricks on me. If it were really a heart issue, I’d be six feet under by now, considering the number of times I’d experienced these scares. That revelation hit me like a ton of bricks – my mind was more powerful than I ever imagined!

I started doing detailed research on anxiety disorder and came across a book detailing a person’s harrowing journey through anxiety, far worse than mine. His advice echoed like a golden rule: “Don’t resist. Just breathe and let it pass.” Embracing this mantra made a world of difference. Though the doctor prescribed antidepressants and Xanax, I waved them off. No chemical meddling in my brain, thank you very much! Years later, I realized it was the right call. My body adapted, and the anxiety vanished almost completely.

The Anxiety Club: Finding Humor in Shared Struggles

A few weeks after my cardiologist visit, I bumped into an old buddy, and when I spilled the beans about my anxiety rollercoaster, he chuckled, “Welcome to the club!”

“Yeah, these are textbook anxiety symptoms. You’re too young to be dealing with heart issues. I went through the same stuff, and this,” he said, pulling out a bottle of antidepressants, “is my new best friend.”

“Make sure to get a proper diagnosis from a doctor, though. Oh, and here’s a pro tip: never mention this in India!” he added, piquing my interest.

“Why’s that?” I asked, intrigued.

“Well, I had a trip to India right after I got diagnosed with anxiety. One morning, in the middle of my village visit, I had a panic attack and, unfortunately, I had left my pills back in the city. The nearest ‘doctor’ in my village was this witch doctor. He had no clue what was up with me! He started whacking me with a peacock feather broom, and when that didn’t work, he sent me off to the Hanumanji temple. The villagers locked me in there for two nights, thinking I was possessed!” he recounted.

That cracked me up, but it also came as a relief that I was not alone.