21 Questions & Counting...

Out of the ordinary, with loads of things to say. A million things to think of but minimal to put into words. I know this doesn't make sense yet, I know it's difficult to decipher what this is really all about but the easiest way of putting across what I'm typing is, do you feel me? Can you get what I'm trying to say in all these mixed up words (that technically don't even make sense together) without having to actually think about it?

Okay, so what's the big word in it all? ANXIETY. Now, do you feel me? Just sat in my office in my own spare time, broad daylight outside whilst the rest of the world is working, and I'm still trying to figure out what my brain wants me to think. The truth is, I don't know where to start, do I start with the struggles? The denial? How hard it can be to hide? I just tend to go with the flow and that's probably where things become more real to understand, yet so hard for me to explain.

So as you may have already noticed, I indeed have anxiety. Okay, now I've said that bit, I'm stumped. See what I mean? I could use a million words to describe something and not let it make any sense to anyone else. However, when it's put in its most simplest form, I can't actually figure out a way of understanding it myself.

So where to go from here... Okay, so this is now becoming a world where anxiety, depression, personality disorders, and so on are all becoming socially acceptable (I mean that in the best way). What I mean by that is 20 years ago if someone was to express their emotions in such a way they would be seen as cowardly or weak. However, now it's become something that is easier to talk about, something that you can happily express your feelings on and not be judged for whatever reason it may be. That's an outsider's opinion. You could have all the conditions under the sun and find it so easy to give someone else advice or try to help them but when someone tries to help you, it's a completely different story. This is all from personal experience and believe me, I've not even got past the point of denial yet because I'm that person.

I have generalized anxiety (which was diagnosed by my CBT), something in which people may think I worry about anything and everything—which I do—however, it all leads to one thing that has me panicking on a daily basis. From a young age, I can remember being anxious all the time, I mean we've all had our struggles but I guess that's just a part of life. It's how we deal with them that causes the long-term pain, whether it be physical or emotional. Emetophobia is my worst enemy. That's a fear of being sick. This could be the sight of it, the sound, the thought... For me, it's the thought of me becoming physically sick. Might sound ridiculous to some but it's real and it's life-changing on an unbelievable scale.

I remember when I was around six or seven years old when I had my first panic attack. I was leaving school with my mum and she was arguing with her sister, someone we didn't actually associate ourselves with but under the circumstances, my mum had to speak to her. Just to let you guys know, my mum is a long-term sufferer of asthma/COPD and has cerebral palsy. So anyway they were arguing over whatever and all of a sudden my mum started crying and couldn't breathe. I remember she fell to the floor in what seemed like forever but in everyone else's view and because I'm common as muck... she went down like a sack of spuds. I didn't know what to do, I didn't have a phone or anyone I could run to without leaving her. Instantly, I ran straight back up to my school and got a teacher, they came running out with me running in front and they rang the ambulance. My mum looked so poor and every breath she took as a child I thought looked like her last. Well...her sister, the miserable cow, just walked off. Left me to deal with this situation on my own as a child. She looked back and didn't give a toss about her own flesh and blood lying on the floor in danger. This was when I realized at such an early age that family doesn't mean anything. Anyway, from this I was calm, I didn't know what was going on I just wanted to help her. A few minutes had passed and the paramedics were here and she was carted off in an ambulance. At that point, that's when I started crying. It was my mum being taken away from me, going with strange people to a place where they treat dying people (I was young that's what I believed). I was held back by the teacher as another teacher was informing my dad who—I believe—was at work at the time. That was it she went off in the ambulance and I was crying.

My next of kin was my granddad and my second cousin who was my mum's cousin. They only lived around the corner from school and they were informed and came to get me. By the time I got to my granddad's, I had calmed down. Walked in the house ready for my dinner wondering how long mum was going to be. Then they told me I'd be staying there for the night and all of a sudden it hit me, I had so may naive questions as a kid, thinking mum was unbreakable and that she'd be home soon but no one could answer the questions I was asking because they didn't know either. That's when the air was sucked from my lungs, when my muscles started going into spasm, and I was crying in such a way I couldn't control. I was close with my granddad and would never have an issue at such short notice but Jesus, I was having none of it. My first panic attack. I didn't know what it was, or why it was happening but obviously this troublesome brain of mine did.

Anyway, I'd gotten myself into such a state that my granddad thought the only way of calming me down was if I saw her, so he contacted my dad. My dad picked me up and drove to the hospital so I could see my mum. When I got there it was quite late at night and there wasn't a lot going on from what I could see and then walking onto the ward I saw my mum and I was okay, I was happy. She looked fine, like nothing had even happened. She had an oxygen mask on but I remember one of the nurses say to me it was to give her superpowers and it was nothing sinister. I believed it and before you know it I'm causing all sorts of trouble on the ward due to boredom. It was fun. It was scary going through all that as a small child with but I guess at the time I thought nothing of it.

Looking back and thinking about when I had my first panic attack puts it all into perspective. I know this doesn't make much sense from what I started with but typing it out and seeing it with my own eyes has given me some form of reassurance and I will write more.

All I want is to understand this myself and give myself some form of relaxation, not only that but for other people to read my experiences and know it's different for everybody and that is okay. I will update tomorrow, however, my hands have officially gone into spasm and I currently feel like there's a mule on my back so I'm going to lay down.

Stay Sassy People!!! <3