To Live Would Be An Awfully Big Adventure.
Tags: Psychology, Support, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Mental Health Awareness

It’s a lonely business, mental health. Especially seen as nobody talks about it and you’re stuck thinking your alone in the world in the way you feel, like nobody else would understand. Even getting help feels lonely sometimes. The holy mortifying shame of standing on the street after ringing the buzzer to your therapists office, impatiently waiting for her to let you in for fear someone you know might see you on the street and you might be expected to explain what you’re doing going in there. Aside from feeling lonely, dealing with mental health can be scary, even downright terrifying. Anxiety in its worst form becomes a living nightmare; every sound is sudden and potentially signalling danger, shadows in the dark take on other forms and a light touch can become enough to incite terror if unexpected. Your senses go into complete overdrive and become distorted in their perception of what’s going on around you. Couple this with dissociation and flashbacks from PTSD and you’ve got a combination with a likely devastating outcome. The week before it happened, my mind was beginning to deteriorate entirely. Changing the radio station in the car, especially at night, wasn’t an option, the static between stations was enough to elicit panic and fear at what insidious voices might appear beneath the buzz. Driving home at night along country roads in the pitch dark was enough to convince my mind there was a figure sitting in the back seat, with a knowing smile of what was to come should I turn around and face it. Showers became difficult, I couldn’t be in the bathroom alone with the shower running and not be able to be on full sensory alert or I’d be consumed with panic.

My sister took on the role of sitting with her back to me and talking to me or singing to distract me so I could simply take a shower, it didn’t stop me from crying the whole way through for the fear that wouldn’t leave, even in her presence. The bus, walking on the street and crowds became impossible, every tall man standing near me was re-imagined in my mind to represent the source of my fear and cause of my trauma, the scariest thing was that it was never him, but my brain couldn’t tell the difference due to dissociation. Sleep was off limits, that was where the fear came to roost and breed and get bigger and show me just how bad it was going to get in the form of nightmares. I hadn’t slept for weeks, I was exhausted, I was stressed, overwhelmed, living in a constant state of fear like a living horror movie 24/7. It felt like being in a house that caught fire and the only escape was throwing myself off the roof. Cognitive constriction had set in that limited any brain activity working in favor of rational and logical reasoning and it wasn’t looking good. I was one of the lucky ones, someone shouted. My sister doesn’t know this but her shouting from downstairs to ask me where my charger was saved my life. It was enough to shock me back to reality and realize what was happening, what I was in the process of trying to do.

I jumped back like I’d been in a trance and woken up to find myself holding a poisonous snake that I quickly fired across the room. I sat shaking uncontrollably, crying and digging my nails into my legs in an attempt to hang on to reality. I rang my best friend, went to hers, continued with the struggle of balancing the tight rope of reality and dissociation and by morning went for my weekly therapy appointment. Again, I was one of the lucky ones. My therapist knew immediately something wasn’t right and asked if we could call an ambulance. I was hysterical at the thoughts of a scene, at the idea that I might be exaggerating and look a fool or worse be taken more seriously than I’d hoped and have to go with the ambulance men never to return. Instead, she phoned my parents. I’m not sure what was said, she left the room to make the call, but when she came back, she said my parents would be waiting at home. At home I was met with both of them at the door, an overnight bag in the car as advised by my therapist because it was unlikely, I’d be coming back home that night. First A&E and then I was quickly transferred to a psychiatric unit for assessment. It was confirmed, I’d had a mental breakdown due to undiagnosed and untreated PTSD on top of Generalised Anxiety disorder. My brain and body couldn’t hold it together anymore and had shut down. The doctors agreed to release me into my parents care with sedatives and a short-term dose of anti-psychotic medication to help my brain recover from the initial trauma shock and flashbacks. A week later, my doctor at home prescribed longer-term medication, to ensure this wouldn’t happen again and advised that therapy be increased, my therapist herself agreed.

After the first week, after the shock, after a lot of the panic had subsided real fear set in. Fear of what could have been, fear at how far I was willing to go to save myself from living in horror, dread and panic every single day. I became filled with a sort of panic I’d only ever felt once before, as a child when I’d swam down too deep, ran out of air and had only a few seconds to kick like fuck to break the surface. I realized it wasn’t panic I was feeling, it was a survival instinct, the most innate instinct known to man, the one your brain is never supposed to forget, I’d finally remembered mine. A month after it happened, I went back to work. I looked healthier, more rested, calmer. I’d gotten myself a personal trainer, started eating healthier, took my medication, went to therapy and stopped bottling it all up. I feared being judged, being mistaken as having went on a little holiday, afraid of being a joke, instead I was met at the door by those I worked with full of smiles, hugs and just generally happy to see me. That was enough, I didn’t need any further confirmation to know that people did in fact give a shit, even if they don’t talk about it. I wasn’t alone, I’d never been alone, and I didn’t need to be afraid anymore.

To live would be an awfully big adventure.