I first took trains on my own from New Jersey to New York City when I was 15 years old. Upon arrival I walked Greenwich Village, and sat in Washington Square Park where I watched musicians, and refused marijuana offers.

I was free of rules; free of fear; free.

I stopped taking the train in 2009 when I was 40 years old and Panic Disorder shrunk my world. Most of my panic attacks became specific to modes of travel. I was unable to drive long distance, which separated me from my children who lived 50 miles away. Absence from their life bred guilt, which fed panic, which fed distance, which fed guilt, and so on.

I was robbed of freedom; rife with terror; jailed.

With no evidence to support my irrational thoughts, I believed if driving above ground sparked panic, riding underground in a tube from which I could not escape when needed might kill me. Panic attacks feel like death, but whereas death only happens once, panic attacks tend to recur, which is why anxiety is just as likely to contribute to suicide as is depression. Flying was never a big part of my life, so I felt no loss by avoiding planes, but trains were integral to my life, and they had been taken away.

Ive yet to mention I am a psychotherapist who has helped clients conquer irrational fears; including one who avoided movie theaters for fear of bedbugs, and others who avoided social situations because they felt awkward in public. I specialized in conquering avoidant behavior of others, while I was in the midst of avoiding.

Although I derived joy from the accomplishments of my clients, I also harbored shame and feelings of fraudulance for not having conquered my own fears. Furthermore, my wife, who wanted only to go on a cruise for our honeymoon, was collateral damage of panic disorder because there was no way I was spending 8 nights in the middle of the ocean...until I did it this past summer.

It was by no means a miracle I cruised to Bermuda, and had one of the great times of my life. Extensive preparation was a must. I attended several therapy sessions, continued my Zoloft treatment, and carried with me a beta blocker to keep my heart from racing, and igniting a panic attack. Contrary to what I believed, the cruise was a breeze, I felt at home in my floating city, and took the beta blocker only on the first day. Sometimes the best way to conquer a bully is to confront it directly. In the end, I experienced not only the exhilharation of a much needed vacation, but the thrill liberation for both me and my wife.

Mental illness never impacts only the life of the sufferer.

Through treatment I have learned what is real, and what is not. Ive become aware Panic Disorder prevents the most elevated part of my brain from guiding me, and instead allows the more primitive part of my brain, in which lives our fight/flight response, to rule.

Today I drive at will, and am contemplating future vacations, maybe even on a plane, but trains remain my macguffin. Fortunately, I am at least in a contemplative state, and for me, contemplation is a first step toward action. I will take a train in the not too distant future, and I will write about it when it happens because writing has been integral to my recovery.

Its important I raise awareness to the fact panic disorder can be beaten through work and treatment, but is by no means easy. Mine is not a story of miracle cures, but of possible cures. I am on a recovery spectrum, and although I am functioning at my highest level since 2009, Im not satisfied. I still have work to do, but I can now share some triumphs with clients because they instill hope, and instillation of hope is a central component of recovery from any mental illness.