anx·i·e·ty
noun, distress or
uneasiness of mind caused by fear of danger or misfortune
If there is one subject I am
an expert on, it’s anxiety (and 20th century history, but
that’s irrelevant at the moment).
Anxiety is my mortal enemy,
it has plagued my life for the last 10 years. At times, it has been my only
constant, my only friend, and the perfect excuse to hide from the world and not
even try. It destroyed my life when I left University and had a
breakdown. It took me a long time to fight my way back from that; I couldn’t
eat, sleep, leave the house or even be on my own for more than a few minutes at
a time. It controlled every inch of me.
You think you know me. You
think I’m just a bit of a miserable cow, you tell me to smile, cheer up, it
might never happen. You tell me to just chill out. But you don’t know
me. You don’t know what I have been through, the crippling depression I have
dealt with (and still often do). You don’t know how often I find it hard to
even get out of bed in the morning, or do the things I have to in order to lead
a ‘normal’ life.
I can go months without
feeling any anxiety at all. It lulls you into this false sense of security, to
the point where you think you’ve got the bastard beaten, though you never
really do. You think you’re coping fine and then suddenly you realise that you
have pushed yourself too hard, things are starting to overwhelm you and you
have to take some kind of action before things get out of hand again. I’m good
at picking up on those signs now, and I am always prepared to do what needs to
be done to stop myself from spiralling.
So you see, I know anxiety.
I know how it feels, I recognise the signs, that familiar lump in my throat,
that weight on my chest and sense of unreality as my breathing gets quicker and
my head starts to spin. I know what causes it, what tiny little thoughts I
didn’t even realise had passed through my brain to trigger the overwhelming
feeling of ‘oh my god I have got to run away I cannot do this, I cannot do
this, I cannot do this…’
Those thoughts have been
creeping in over the last couple of weeks as the day gets ever closer. There
are so many things to worry about, all building up to overwhelm me. I’m scared
of flying. I’m worried about food. I’m worried about being in a foreign country
for 6 days. I’m worried I’m not fit enough, that I won’t make it to the top.
I’m terrified that I will have an anxiety attack halfway up the mountain. I’m
scared I will be affected by altitude sickness. I’m scared of letting Katie
down, of letting down the people who have sponsored us. Basically, I’m just
plain worried.
The other day I went to the
gym and anxiety stopped me from doing more than half an hour on the treadmill.
Today at work I started to panic about all the things I still have to do to get
ready, the equipment I need to get, the things I need to organise and the
training I still need to do. I’ve been getting overwhelmed again, and as much
as I know how to deal with that, there is always that initial period of
sticking my head in the sand and trying to avoid, avoid, avoid, until I realise
what I’m doing and give myself a mental slap round the face. So today I started
to get my act together, had lunch with Katie, talked through a few things and
started to formulate a plan of action.
This is a difficult post to
write, because even as I sit here and type I can feel the familiar tightening
in my throat as anxiety takes over. But you see there is something I have
learned in these last 10 years and that is to “just keep swimming”. I read a
lot of self-help books during my many attempts at recovery and a lot of it was
useless toss, but there was one phrase which has stuck with me more than any
other and has swiftly become my motto for life; feel the fear and do it anyway.
Feel the fear and do it
anyway.
It works, you know. In the
years since I adopted that motto I have conquered my fear of flying (mostly),
before getting on a plane alone and flying to the States. I’ve applied for jobs
I didn’t think I could get, and got them. I’ve put myself through the torture
of internet dating (albeit very briefly) and meeting new people. I have stopped
running away from a relationship that means a lot to me and finally allowed
myself to be happy. And I’ve signed up with a friend to trek through the Atlas
Mountains in Morocco in 15 days.
I’ve been through a lot
these last 10 years, but I sit here now, 29 years old and a stronger person
than I have ever been. A happier person that I have ever been.
Anxiety has arguably never had less control over my life. And you know what,
I’m going to make it to the top of this mountain and I’m going to stand there
with a dear friend and I’m going to say this: ‘fuck you, anxiety. I made it’.
Feel the fear, and do it
anyway.
Try it. I dare you
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