LOOKING BACK & MOVING FORWARD

I posted an article a few of years ago called 'My Anxiety: 7 Years On'.

10 years this year.

I went through a major bout of anxiety when I was around 19 years old; a lil spring chicken. I've always been a bit of a hypochondriac (or 'hypey-c', I like to call it so it seems a bit less daunting).

hypochondriac – (n.) a person who is abnormally anxious about their health.

It feels like I've posted this all before but since we're reflecting, I might as well go over it again. Basically, let's rewind back to 2013, back when Prince George was born & selfies were all the rage. Life was (kinda) bliss. I was in a somewhat stable relationship (the ended one year later), had a casual job, and I'd just deferred a uni degree.

One day, I randomly started feeling pains all throughout my body, mainly in my chest area. I waited a few minutes & the pain didn't go away. Here I am, 19 years old, thinking 'surely nothing bad could be happening to me'. I felt a tightening sensation in my chest & the sudden struggle to breathe. I rang mum, she came home straight away and drove me to the hospital. Reflecting on it now, I think I knew nothing terrible could've been happening, but there was also this uncertainty of, 'but what if it is?'. That feeling of uncertainty would later outweigh the reality.

After being hooked up to an ECG monitor, having numerous needles in my veins & multiple blood pressure checks, the doctor reassured me that I was physically healthy & nothing bad was happening to me. I remember as plain as day, the doctor sitting right beside me saying, 'have you ever experienced panic attacks?'. Well, not that I could ever recall. Life was so easy, so why was I so anxious? Why was I experience panic attacks that led me to the point of feeling like my lungs were going to stop working & my heart was going to drop out of my bottom? I would cry until I felt better. Most of the time, I knew they were coming. My heart would race, I'd get this awful, dry feeling in my throat & it would feel like the ground was going to be pulled from beneath me. I could feel my chest closing up, and I couldn't help but shake. I'd work myself up so much to the point of vomiting. This happened for about a year or so. I couldn't eat properly, my weight dropped dramatically, and I almost found it difficult to leave the house. I'd feel so guilty. I needed reassurance, not only from my serial-Google-symptom-searching-skills, but I'd constantly look for articles written by people experiencing a similar thing to what I was going through. Most of the time, I'd only come across medical websites (webMD, anyone?), or professionally written articles. I just wanted something or someone, to relate to. I felt alien.

I wrote in my previous article what I would describe anxiety as:

'It's like wanting someone to hug you but worrying that you'll suffocate. It's about caring too much or not caring at all. It's wanting to be busy but being too scared to commit. It's cancelling plans. It's overanalysing isolating, needing reassurance. It's being on several trains of thought all at once but only being able to pick one of them. Sometimes you're emotionally hurting, and sometimes it feels like your heart is being physically ripped out of your chest. Sometimes it's not something you can explain, and sometime's it's just not something you want to explain. It's wanting to speak about it, but being too afraid no one will listen, or that you'll say something wrong. It's wanting to scream, but there's no noise coming out. It's silence. It's so f*cking hard.'

When you're told, 'you have a mental health disorder', it almost feels like the walls come caving in & you can't help but think that it's all downhill from here, and things will never be okay.

It's been 10 years.

I feel good. I am 28-turning-29. I have a fiancé. I have 2 beautiful fur-babies. I'm building my dream home. I run a successful business. My family & friends are fabulous. I have everything I need.

I certainly wasn't 'cured' overnight. I didn't swallow a happy pill & magically cure myself (imagine if it were that easy lol). I can't tell you how many times I walked through the doors of my GP, how many hospital visits I took, or how many kilograms I'd fluctuate. But time kept on ticking as it does, the days kept going, and in time I was feeling better. I took time to focus on the things that made me happy. I tried consuming my mind with positive thoughts. I say 'tried' because sometimes it's just so f*cking difficult. I built the courage to speak about what I was experiencing, which we all know is tough. I breathed.

Rereading my article & bringing up all these past feelings is somewhat upsetting, but I'm not sad about what I've been through. I know how far I've come over these past 10 years. I still have my off days, and I most certainly still have moments of panic. But I know myself. I know what I've been through, my past, my struggles, who I am, and all of the shitty yet beautiful things that come with that. Anxiety can be so isolating, and so silent. Most people would have absolutely no idea what's going on behind closed doors, but you know it's there. And you're not alone. If you are going through a tough time, remember that there is always someone there. Someone will always be there to talk, give you reassurance, or just listen. Sometimes you just want to be heard. For me, spilling my thoughts out with no response sometimes just feels better then a two-way conversation. Don't just sweep your feelings under a rug - talk about it.

If you're going through something like this, please speak about it. Whether it's to your GP, myself, or someone close to you, we are all here.

“When your chest aches and your head is swimming with all of your faults and all of your flaws and you can’t seem to find your footing, remember that fear is a liar. That you have been here before, and you will breathe again. Remember that you are enough. Always enough.”