The return of the fish

Well... what can I say, adoring fans? I know you have formed in your masses, exploding with anticipation and excitement to see the return of my blog that you once followed religiously... well, let the relief flood over your every pore as I reassure you that I once again, intend to write as often as I can. 

I won't indulge in a 'this is what has happened since my last blog post', I'll just say that I think myself to have much more to talk about these days, which I don't doubt will become apparent as I continue with my blog. I feel the best starting point, is to begin as I wish to continue. And I wish to try my very best to touch a nerve with readers, after all, that's exactly why I love writing.  And to start with a bang, I'm going to share with you a story that I hope can make a small impact to someone. I warn you, it's a bit more dramatic than anything I've ever written before, but why have a blog if you're just going to be boring?

I reluctantly have to admit that I fall into many averages, many statistics, and I’ve led a relatively average existence so far. However, four years ago, I developed an anxiety disorder. I was ill with anaemia at the time, but did not get a diagnosis for weeks. For someone who hadn’t been ill with more than the chicken pox prior to this, it really affected me. I over-analysed every ache and pain, fearing the worst. I developed hypochondria and a phobia of passing out, of being dizzy, and the general idea that the body has the ability to unexpectedly do unpleasant things beyond our control (and to any males that may be reading, I don't mean passing wind!)

I year later went to university and managed two years without any major hiccups.  I even managed to join the Territorial Army. Although my anxiety was always with me, it didn’t prevent me from doing anything. Each day was more of a struggle for me than most, but I saw it as character building.

Last September, I transferred university for my final year. I wanted to keep out of my comfort zone in an attempt to work better. I also reasoned that it would do wonders for my anxiety. It started out that way, however, things soon started to deteriorate, and I began panicking a lot more.

Surrounded by new people, I kept my disorder to myself, and was often missing university.  I cannot describe to you how this ‘panic’ feels. It’s a feeling in the head, mostly. It makes me twitchy, restless, it gives me a degree of tunnel vision, light headedness, and an overwhelming sense of what I can only describe as panic.

After struggling through my first semester, all the anxiety I’d experienced mounted up to a horrible culmination of the worst panic attacks I’ve ever experienced.

It began the day after finishing for Christmas. I was sat at my computer when I suddenly felt a horrible sensation of almost passing out and being unable to breathe.  I ended up going to hospital. I see myself as a writer, and, if you enjoy a cliché, I see writing is my path in life. I could write pages of literature describing something as menial as a toothbrush without a hint of writer’s block. But the way I felt, physically and mentally, I cannot define in words. I lay in a hospital bed, alone, confused and terrified.

The doctor told me that nothing was physically wrong, and that I was just suffering from really bad anxiety.  I went home from university that day, entirely unconvinced, and still terrified.

  Over the following couple of weeks, at home for Christmas, I suffered from the same feeling roughly once every other day. Despite what the doctor said, I still believed there to be something wrong with me.

 I spent my days in a disorientated, nervous state. Still suffering from a phobia of passing out, I was constantly on edge. Very often I would break down in tears, unable to see how I could face another day, never mind go back to university.  The most upsetting part, was that after having a hold on my anxiety for four years, I had now lost control, which was the one thing keeping me positive.

One day just after Christmas, sat in a car with my mother after a day of shopping, I was relaxed. However, I began to feel a slight pain in my chest. I then couldn’t breathe for a few seconds and felt on the verge of passing out.

 This was the first time I truly believed I was dying, I went to hospital again. The doctor calmly sat me on a bed and talked light-heartedly about anxiety, whilst I went to hell and back on the bed next to him. I was given a sedative (which proved to be great entertainment for my mum) and sent home. The doctor explained that it was psychological; it was the next step of my anxiety disorder and my unconscious mind playing tricks on my body.

The same thing happened again a few days later. However, this time, my arms went tingly from my hands to my elbows, my legs went numb, and I couldn’t move my fingers. Once again, I went to hospital, terrified. In the car, I couldn’t even undo my seatbelt or open my car door. And again, I was given the same response by doctors.

 I’d like to say I’m looking back on this now, fully recovered and lightly sighing with relief, but I’m not. I realise I have been talking in past tense, which seems prematurely optimistic. I know I should just relax, enjoy being young and stop worrying. But what people will fail to realise is that it’s, frustratingly, not that simple.

My Christmas break from university ends in a few days time, and despite looking forward to it, going back will be the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.

Anxiety is a term used frequently, everyone suffers with it to some degree at some time. However, for those who have a slightly unhealthy amount of anxiety, I cannot stress enough how important it is to keep under control. Anxiety, in high doses over a long period of time, is like a poison to the mind and body. Eventually that poison could catch up with you and you could, like me, experience an almighty explosion. 

The worst part about my disorder is that when it's bad, it prevents me from being myself. I can't do what I want to do, and often have to make excuses to get out of plans I wanted to keep, and I'm sure it can make me seem quiet and distracted. I also carry with it a lot of embarrassment, and until now, you probably didn't know about any of this, as I put all my energy into keeping it hidden. In fact, I'm extremely nervous about publishing this blog post. In the past, I enjoyed the fact that no one knew, I could pretend to be just like everyone else. However, I think I've come to the point where I don't want to keep it to myself anymore. On the bright side, once I've beaten this, I'll appreciate being able to enjoy the simplest of things, and that almost makes it worth it.