I only have my grandmother, who raised me, whom I love and I know loves me but the generational gap was too wide and we don't have that connection where I can tell her anything about what's really going on. She's old school traditional too so any psychological issue can be solved by two scoops of church and a handful of Jesus.
My friends did not understand why I would just bust out crying without any preamble or warning and had no clue what to do when I'd have an anxiety attack. I always kept my suicidal thoughts a secret because I felt for sure if I ever told anyone they'd have me institutionalized. My greatest fear is being locked away and felt no one would understand me or my disorders.
I remember I was walking home from work one day and out of the blue I was in it I was literally trapped on the sidewalk. I couldn't go back I couldn't go forward. I was just stuck there and needed help. I called a close friend but she was unavailable. I think I called her 20 times. So I became irrationally angry at her. How dare she not be there to help? So I was terrified out of my mind in the throes of an attack and livid that she wasn't there to help.
Reliving that now and those feelings are just the worst. A few years ago I was having panic attacks almost ever week. I wanted to die. I hoped I didn't live, I thought there is no way people can survive feeling this way. I haven't had a full blown attack in about a year or so, I have little reminders, now and then, that I'm still fucked but I've learned how to get through them and I can 'manage' the small attacks.
I won't even lie and say I don't have thoughts about giving up because I do, sometimes it's daily, most times though I look forward to another day and everyday seems a little better than the last nowadays which is amazing. Even that glimmer of hope is something I never thought I'd have.