I talk to college students about their experiences with panic attacks all the time. I'm empathetic. I validate them. I help them to understand that panic attacks are not their fault.
Then my son had one.
We were at his 2nd grade basketball game. For the first 20 minutes or so, they practice their shooting, do drills, etc and then they play a brief scrimmage against another 2nd grade team for the remainder of the hour. They don't even keep score, although I'll admit, somehow the kids always know who won at the end.
Of course this was the game that my mom and aunt were at. They were in the area for my niece's band concert the day before and where we live happens to be on the way home for them. Why not have an audience for our first ever, public panic attack.
My son told my husband and myself that he didn't want to go out for basketball, but, in our defense, he'd never actually played before, other than shooting around at home. We felt that he could hardly make a decision on whether or not he wanted to do something or liked/disliked something, until he actually tried it.
This was actually our second week of BB. The first week, he didn't really know what to expect. He went through the drills and scrimmage, obviously not really knowing what was going on, but essentially, did it without any major issues.
The day of the game, he said he didn't want to go, but that isn't necessarily unusual for him. He always says he doesn't want to go to school, he doesn't want to go to soccer, but ultimately ends up being fine and even sometimes, says he enjoyed it.
I knew something was wrong right away. I saw his coach give him some directions on how to cut through the middle of the lane in order to get a bounce pass. I could tell he was confused and his attitude deteriorated from there. His coach tried to give him an assuring pat on the back, and I saw his shoulder sink to deflect it. Ugh, I knew. He walked over to the wall edge, kicked it and had "that look" on his face.
As soon as he did that, we made eye contact and let me tell you, if looks could kill, he would have died instantaneously. The look on my face and point of my finger was more than enough information to let him know, I was NOT having it. I was not empathetic, I was not validating. I was absolutely pissed and he knew it.
He walked off the court and went over to the corner of the gym and completely lost it. I mean, full blown crying, hyperventilating and absolute refusal to return to the court.
The counselor in me was saying one thing and the parent in me was saying another. Which to listen to. At first, I tried to walk him through deep breathing. "In through your nose and out through your mouth." I reassuringly said, "You've got this buddy." And when he couldn't calm himself down and was arguing with me about returning to the court, I just couldn't keep my cool anymore. I did what I always tell myself I'm not going to do. I started making empty threats. What did I threaten him with, you ask? In my anger and quite honestly, embarrassment, I threatened to take away his birthday party. Yep, I went there.
He cried some more and after a few minutes, we were at least able to sit on the bleachers with his coaches and team, albeit, I'm not sure if that was any better as his crying/inability to breathe was more visible to everyone.
I watched him tug at his throat, gasping for air, saying he was unable to breathe. I watched his little body shaking. I listened to him express his shame at knowing that people were "looking" at him.
It is one of the worst experiences I've had as a parent.
It is a terrible feeling as a parent, knowing that you could so easily remedy this situation. If you'd just let him quit, walk out of the gym, he would be fine. But, in the back of your mind, you absolutely know that the relief that he would feel is only temporary and his fears would return the moment you ask him to finish the remainder of the games.
After several minutes he was able to calm himself down to at least a point where he could breathe. He was able to get in the game and although he didn't enjoy himself, at least he (and we) can say that he pushed through the panic and was able to recover from it. A small feat in and of itself.
How as parents can you go from being absolutely terrified, to infuriated, to proud and then back to loving your child, all in a matter or moments...it's hard to explain. I'm still not certain that making him push through it was the right "play," but it was the one I made and the one I will need to live with.
Despite all the threats, I can assure you, my son will get his birthday party, he will survive 2nd grade Basketball and the emotional intensity of parenting will continue to play out in our life. I just hope that next time, there is a smaller audience.
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