Authors: Leah Banicki
I wouldn’t call it depression, I felt it was a dark time or a heaviness. I had not dressed in anything but
pajamas for weeks. I kept trying out different things to cheer myself up but the heaviness lingered. I ate a lot of
chocolate but it didn’t taste good anymore. I went a week of eating fast food, forcing my dad and mom out for the
most ridiculous things. I stopped eating the fast food when it did bad things to my gut. I made a few good choices
by eating better.
I decided to go to church with my parents and got up when my alarm went off. As I showered I felt pain in
my stomach. I ended my shower quickly and threw on a robe then I padded through the kitchen and saw Chrissy
at the table. My heart jumped and I turned around and walked away. I didn’t need the confrontation just now. She
gave me a look with her eyebrows raised, almost daring me to say something. She didn’t have to worry. I had no
desire for a scene.
I mean it really hurt
. I was freaking out. My heart was racing faster, I was getting concerned. I felt like this on
a smaller scale when I was dumped but this was worse. This hurt.
What was happening to me?
“Mom!” I yelled out and I was panting. I sat on the floor and grabbed a throw pillow and squeezed it tight.
Breathe in, breathe out…oh my chest
.
My door opened and my mother ran to me. Her face awash with the same worry I was feeling.
“I can’t breathe, and my chest hurts.” I explained in a choppy voice in between breaths. I realized I was
crying but I didn’t care. I was scared.
What is going on?
“Just be calm.” She said to me and yelled for my dad. ”Bring the phone!” she hollered.
Chrissy ran up to my door and stood there and stared at me. For a moment she seemed concerned and
the next moment, doubtful. My dad scooted her away from the door and handed my mother the phone.
My mother dialed the phone and my dad sat on the floor next to me. I explained how I felt to him too and
tried to catch my breath. My chest was still pounding.
I heard my mother talking, she explained all I had told her a minute ago. My dad was rubbing his hand on
my back.
She handed the phone to me.
“Hello” I said, my voice breathy and the pain was shooting through my arms and legs. It was extreme, a
new ringing in my ears made it difficult to hear but, I heard a male voice asking me question.
“Do you feel very anxious?” A male voice asked.
“Yes, my heart is pounding so hard in my chest that it hurts.”
“Do you feel feverish?” The voice said.
“No” I answered.
“Have you had any extremely stressful situations lately?”
“Yes, very stressful.” I said and started to tear up even more.
Why did that question make me cry? I am so stupid
. I tell myself.
“I am a doctor and I think you are having a panic attack. I go to your mother’s church. Would it be okay if
I stop by? I have been to your parents place before. I know your situation and I don’t think we need to have the
media follow you to my doctor’s office.” His voice was kind.
* * * * *
The doctor arrived within the hour, using the neighbor’s driveway down the street, and walked through
the backyards to avoid gaining attention.
He asked the traditional doctor questions and pulled a stethoscope from the gym bag he carried. After
checking my heart, lungs and pulse he put everything away.
“Well Hannah, I think it’s pretty cut and dried. I do believe it’s good old fashioned anxiety.” He patted me
on the shoulder.
“Everyone has a certain amount of stress they can handle efficiently. I know your mom has struggled with
anxiety and adrenal issues and has learned to combat it with relaxation and gardening. I think this is your cue to
find a way to relax and breathe. I have a few samples of Xanax for moments that you get out of control. I want to
assure you that no one has ever died from a panic attack but they are painful and scary. There are some great
books about anxiety and depression. I will leave you a list. Perhaps you can have a member of your family to get it
for you.” The doctor said.
“You believe I am depressed.” I asked softly. I was trying to absorb it all.
“From the questions, your circumstances, and your appearance, yes I do believe you are suffering from
depression. My advice is to get some sun. Eat very healthy and try to avoid confrontation for a few days. Get some
good books and also start thinking about getting back to things you did before the show. I know you feel shut off
from everything and are perhaps afraid to venture out but this will pass soon.” He gave me a few pamphlets about
depression and anxiety, info about the Xanax, and a reading list.
The doctor spent a few minutes talking to my mom while I rested. My body felt beat up from the heart
palpitations and stress of the morning. My mother joined me after I heard the back door close. The good doctor
was leaving.
“I will be going to the store soon, I want you to know that your father and I are with you sweetie.
Honestly I am struggling too. This whole situation is more stressful than we ever imagined.” Her hand was stroking
my hair absently as I wiggled closer to lean against her. I would always be a girl who sometimes still needed her
mother.
* * * * *
It had been a few days and I was pretty sad but trying hard to keep busy. I started a regimen of sleeping,
drinking tea, taking vitamins and avoiding the outside world like the plague. I had no idea how the world perceived
me at this moment, and I didn’t really care. I had a few more panic attacks since the other day but I learned some
slow breathing technique’s to help me through it. Mostly I just wanted to avoid them. They scared me.
My mother bought us each a copy of GET OUT OF THAT PIT by Beth Moore. I was a few chapters in and
enjoyed her humor and honesty. My own struggle with being a Christian and having depression didn’t quite add up.
The critical part of me repeated in my brain that I should just be happy and get over it, but I was learning that
maybe my ideas about being a perfect person had set me up for unrealistic expectations.
Beth Moore’s book made me cry quite a bit but in a soul searching therapeutic way. Like a great song can
wash through you. It left me emotional but satisfied and clean inside. I was writing a lot of notes in the margins and
sharing parts of it with my mom as we read separately. We would come together and discuss it. We made a good
team.
Today was the third of April. I had been home for two months exactly. I spent the morning reading and
decided do some exercises to get the blood pumping. I glanced out the window and saw the severe grey clouds
overhead and checked my laptop for weather conditions. I had no plans of leaving, but I hoped that Spring’s
warmth would hit our part of the world. So far there was not much luck with that. It had been dreary, rainy, cold
and blustery all week. “Get some sunshine,” had been on the doctor’s list. I half-heartedly snickered.
Sure…
My mother came home from her Bible study and we got a call soon after. My brother wanted to stop by. I
actually found myself smiling at the thought.
I helped my mother for a bit in the kitchen, we prepared a salad and sandwiches for lunch. I chopped some
apples for one of my mother’s impromptu pies. My brother arrived with impeccable timing, as the pie came out of
the oven.
“Oh my heavens!” Joe said as he walked in and feigned a faint against the door frame. “I am not sure there
is a smell as good as that this side of heaven.” He came all the way in and shuddered out of his winter coat. He
hugged my mother first then embraced me. It felt very nice so I held on for an extra few seconds and got misty.
Love was nice, even from a brother.
“The chill outside is nasty today. It is starting to rain again but it’s coo-old.” He shivered for emphasis and
grabbed a few plates and helped set the table.
I was quiet and enjoyed the friendly chatter, as Joe filled us in on the goings on at his house. Kids suffered
with cabin fever this time of year as they longed to be outside and free. They were probably driving Anne up the
walls.
“I can babysit some night for you guys so you could have a date.” I offered. That felt like a reasonable
activity. I loved the girls, and I would be a contributing member of society.
“That sounds great! We accept. The girls would adore having you all to themselves.” My brother grinned
and it warmed my heart.
The sky outside got a little darker and my mother got up from the table and turned on the kitchen light.
We all glanced outside and saw the rain coming down in sheets. The lights flickered a second and we suddenly
became very interested in the weather. It was the human condition.
We opened the door, peeked out and heard the rain hitting the earth with loud plops and also, the nearly
imperceptible squeaking that we all have come to fear in states where freezing rain has hit. I could see the patches
of ice forming on Joe’s car.
“We are having such a pleasant spring don’tcha think?” I said with a cheesy grin. We backed away from the
door and went back to our lunches. The rain continued to pour and we all kept on eye on it as we visited.
My mom was cutting the pie just as we lost power. Like any good mid-west mom she had emergency
candles nearby and lit them. My dad called a few minutes later to say he would be staying at work, he had heard
the roads were treacherous.
The pie was delicious as we heard the crackling freezing rain. It was such a strange phenomenon when it
happened, the perfect conditions had to come into play, it was a deadly science.
The visit went well and the lights flickered then stayed off for good after the pie plates were cleared. We
waited for the rain to stop and actually enjoyed the quiet without the power running. It was really amazing how
quiet a house gets when there was truly nothing turned on. My parents had a generator and would use it later if
they needed to turn on the water pump and keep the freezer going. Oh the mess Mother Nature could leave if the
freezer defrosted.
After the rain had stopped and the salt trucks came by we decided to help get Joe’s car de-iced. We
bundled up and headed out with any ice chipping devices we could find. I stole my dad’s long heavy wool coat from
the mud-room and the ice scraper from my mom’s car in the garage. She had another one on the workbench, too.
We marched out together on the treacherous driveway then slid and skidded our way to the car. My mother
brought some table salt in a big round black cardboard canister and sprinkled salt as we walked out. The ice hissed
and crackled as she moved along. I started chipping away near the door handles to get them out of the half-inch ice
encasement. We talked about the ominous sound from the nearby trees as they creaked and groaned under the
weight of the ice. The quiet neighborhood was noticeably without power as we heard a few generator engines
started and the general hum they created. I was making a little progress on my door handle and only fell twice
when I heard the sound of cameras clicking near me.
“Seriously, if someone is taking my picture right now I have to wonder at the sanity of it.” I looked over
and my mother was shaking her head.
I turned to see a short guy near my neighbor’s tree. I had seen him before. He was very persistent.
“How were you able to stay out of the rain?” I asked the cameraman. He was silent. He took a few more
pictures and checked his viewfinder. I had a sudden twinge, the thought that Mr. Paparazzi had taken more pictures
lately than I had. I needed to remedy that!
I felt my heart getting jumpy and I took more calming breaths. I turned back to the car, decided to ignore
the rest of the world, and just focused on the ice. It took me a few minutes but I worked the handle loose and
chipped along the edge of the door and got it to open slowly and with a lot of ice crunching.
Joe tossed me the keys and I crawled in and started his car. I got the heat and defroster going full blast and
we all kept working on the problem until my dad arrived. His car was not so badly covered. His employer had a
building for them to park in. Joe left after we got his car de-iced and called when he arrived home safely. They
already had their power back on. We only had to wait a few hours and ours came back on too. It felt like normal
life drama, the little things in life to fuss about. I liked it. Small town life was warming back up for me.
It was two days later when Chrissy approached my dad with a tabloid paper with showing my picture on
the front. He showed it to me later. Mr. Paparazzi from the driveway had gotten a nice shot of me in my father’s
baggy coat. With his work gloves in the pockets and the angle I was standing, it looked very much like a pregnancy
picture. In bold letters it read, HANNAH STILL CARRIES ANTHONY’S BABY.
I had a panic attack that lasted almost an hour. I was shaking, sweating in bed for a while, and trying to
tune everything out. My mom made me take the Xanax the doctor had given me and it sent me into a deep sleep.
When I woke up the next day I had an itchy rash on my arms. The doctor explained the side effect and told me
not to take it anymore. I eagerly agreed. I was chugging tea and water to get the dry mouth sensation to go away.
It took awhile. I tried not to think about the rumors and innuendo, I blocked out the things the tabloids were
saying. I asked my parents very nicely to stop telling me anything about the news or the show.
I wanted to hide and that’s exactly what I did.
Chapter 18
I was trying to get the gears back into motion. Feeling sorry for myself was becoming an easy habit and I
wanted out of it. My personal pep talk for the day was,
get yourself up and moving forward
.
I flipped open my laptop after a full night’s sleep. My laptop had become dear to me since coming back
from the show. It was a good distraction tool. I usually used it for work but had dedicated those few months to
romantic self-discovery, I grumbled under my breath at the thought of what those months had done to me.
No more pity parties!
I told myself, and then started the process of clicking myself back into life.
I checked my work email. I had one account set up for specific job agencies that hired me for freelance
photography. I knew it was going to be a long day as I saw I had over 300 emails in that account alone. I checked
my facebook page and saw that it was bombarded. My last status update was ‘Leaving for the show “
Soulmate
” so
excited.’ Everything came back to remind me.
I closed out my current Facebook page with thousands of friend requests from fans and started a new one.
I tweaked the privacy settings to match my new rule of trust-no-one and proceeded to add all my relatives,
including Chrissy, with friend requests. I changed my name to protect my – sanity – and posted a picture of me as
a 10 year old with my first camera. It was never on the show or in the media, but my family would recognize it.
First status…’Climbing out of the pit, bruised but determined to keep breathing.’ It was as optimistic as I
could make it.
I got over the hard part and switched the status to
single
.
Nothing that anyone doesn’t know.
How many people know my relationship status? It felt global to me, living in my own little fishbowl, but
perhaps there was a place in this world that didn’t care what Hannah Parker was doing today.
I started digging through the emails, starting with the oldest first and realized that was a mistake. Every job
I had done involved a client who had this email. They all wanted to email me about the show. Blah blah blah. After
deleting 50 emails about
Soulmate
from clients, I jumped to the other end of the list and saw a few listed for this
week.