In December, 2014, I was the Hotel Liaison for Midwest FurFest. This is a furry convention that (at the time) had 4,500 attendees. It was my fifth and final year in that position, which is arguably one of the more important roles with a convention, because they make sure that the venue provides all space, equipment, catering, etc. at the right place at the right time. Needless to say, it was a pretty high-stress position going in.

At around 2 AM on Saturday night, something unthinkable happened: someone broke a container containing some kind of chemical in a stairwell, releasing chlorine gas over a large area. The hotel was quickly evacuated, which meant that we now had around 3,000 people standing outside in December in Chicago. We were able to move people into the convention center across the street, and then we had to wait for two hours until the all-clear was given. 19 people were taken to the hospital by ambulance. As the main point of contact between the hotel and the convention, this was quite possibly the most stressful night of my life.

I’m proud to say that we pulled through and kept everyone safe and warm. Amazingly, the show went on and our attendees were complimentary about how quickly we recovered from a potentially devastating event. For myself: I grabbed a fitful few hours of sleep, and then came discussions of what to do in the immediate future, as well as what the insurance and legal ramifications might be (I was a member of the Board of Directors as well). I wrote and distributed the press release about the incident for the convention and handled social media communications too. And when all of this was done, I went back to our hotel room and had an emotional breakdown.

After the convention, I made it clear that I was stepping back from a leadership role for the sake of my metal health. After a few months I realized I had fallen into nasty pit of depression and anxiety, although my dear husband did everything he could to support me. I finally gave in and discussed things with my doctor, who was incredibly understanding and worked with me on a couple of approaches, including a course of Prozac and Wellbutrin that has worked well for me.

Skip ahead two years later. Midwest FurFest 2016, in December of last year. Things were going great, I had a low-stress role helping out the Guests of Honor. On Friday night, though, I woke up certain that I was hearing fire alarms. My heart was racing, and my brain was in pure fight-or-flight mode. All I could do was lay there and try to figure out what was wrong with me. Eventually after an hour+ of misery I fell back asleep.

On Saturday night the same thing happened, and I figured out what was going on: I was having an anxiety attack. I was fortunate that my husband was there to hold me and remind me that everything was going to be OK. This calmed me down much faster and I was able to get some much-needed sleep.

So what have we learned here? I thought that the whole thing was behind me, but now I know that’s not the case. PTSD is a true thing, and it will mess with your mind something fierce. The worst part? Fear of another anxiety attack. It feeds itself if you’re not careful. I will be discussing this more with my doctor, but I thought it was important to write this down to let people know that no, not everyone is perfect, and we may even share some similar problems. I’m going to get help for this. I may never be completely in the clear, but I will have coping mechanisms, and I will consider that a win.

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