I've had anxiety for as long as I can remember. I'm pretty sure most kindergartners don't have panic attacks, but I can clearly remember having them. I think I hold my shit together pretty well most of the time, but every once in awhile it catches up to me. In the last 6 years, the episodes have been far less frequent & my normal high-stress, high-anxiety personality has calmed down enough that it isn't affecting my body in the ways it used to. (I'll spare you the story of periods that lasted 6 weeks or all the times I would go 5 months w/out having one at all.) I think the fact that the panic attacks are less frequent makes them slightly more crippling. Before, when they were a constant thing, I had built up an impressive arsenal of coping mechanisms.
I know in a day or two, this will pass. In fact, as soon as I share these feelings w/ my husband, he'll probably say just the right thing to take the edge off so I can re-group & trudge on. He's great that way. Patient enough to put up w/ me, but crazy enough to keep life interesting. I'm not saying he's the magic cure-all, but he does have a knack for knowing what to say when I need to hear it the most. Or at least saying it in a way that breaks through my thick skull.**
See? I'm crazy.