I was very outgoing as a child. I'd put on plays in front of my parents, sing to records and put on shows. I was like that all through both elementary school and high school. Nothing scared me and my aspirations were high.

I began college as a Theater major and switched midstream to a Communications major. I pictured myself as next big 'News Anchor'. I'd even auditioned at Connecticut School of Broadcasting, impromptu, and got accepted.

At age of twenty, during my sophomore year in college, I lost most of sight in my left eye. To say I was frightened is an understatement. I was terrified. But, I handled it like a trooper, even on those nights when I was alone in hospital not knowing what was wrong with me. When family visited, I appeared strong. At night, I cried alone.

Shortly after I got out of hospital I went to see a stage production of "Fiddler on Roof". I remember it well because that was first of many, many terrifying experiences. It was when I had my first anxiety attack.

During show, my heart began racing so fast I thought I was dying. My chest constricted and I couldn't get enough air. I hyper-ventilated. The more I panicked, worse it got. I ran up isle of theater and headed straight for phone. I needed to talk to my parents. I didn't know why, but their voices were what I needed to hear. I thought I was going crazy.

Immediately, my doctor was contacted to see if any of medications I was given for my detached retina were cause. The answer was no. I was told to go home and lay down.

The subject wasn't brought up again, but I suffered attacks in agonizing silence.

About seven months after my loss of site, I was out with my fiancé, (at time). Suddenly, I couldn't see with BOTH eyes open. My heart began to race again as we rushed to hospital. By time we arrived, my verbal and motor skills were gone and entire left side of my body was numb. You could have cut off my left arm and I wouldn't have felt it. I was screaming inside but when nurse asked me to describe what I was feeling, all I could get out was, "Bah, Ah." I couldn't form any words, (although I knew what I wanted to say), and I thought for certain that either I was having a stroke or was going to die of a brain tumor.

Well, fortunately, I was diagnosed with what's called a "classic migraine", which impairs verbal and motor skills. I regained those in about twenty minutes and then I got worst headache I'd ever had in my life. The doctor said it was stress induced. It hasn't happened since, thank God.

And that was that.

As time went by my attacks came in cycles. They subsided for some time while in college, but shortly after I got married they seemed to come "out of blue". Not often, but each time they were frightening. I didn't know then what I know now, and as I reflect back, I can see where I literally talked myself into a worse frenzy.

I didn't have courage to seek any help. I thought this was something I just had to live with. I'd been examined by doctors for my eye and for classic migraine and all of test results said I was just fine.

So, I went on with my life.

At 25 I suffered a miscarriage. The baby didn't abort itself, it died in my womb and doctors had to remove it. I was sixteen weeks pregnant at time. When I got home from hospital, I wanted to grieve, but my husband, (at time), and I were on different wavelengths. He thought I should get on with it and over it, and I just couldn't let go of my loss or my grief. That's when my anxiety attacks came back with a vengeance. I had heart palpitations that were so frightening I thought I'd have a heart attack. I worked for a ski area and commuted to New Hampshire, many times driving several hours alone, on weekends and suffered some horrific anxiety attacks while driving. He, (my ex-husband), didn't really understand what was going on with me or sympathize very much. I can't blame him for not understanding it, but it didn't make it easier.

I kept it inside. And it festered.