Before I begin, I would like to inform you
that this is very personal. If
you could withhold any judgments that may occur throughout this post, please
keep it to yourself. If you have any questions about anything at all I will be
open to responding to any questions, but again, please do respect this post and
me.
Also, quick disclaimer: if you’re
uncomfortable with talk to do with drug use then I highly advise you not to
read any further. Thank you!
Nevertheless, I do hope this post will help
at least one of you who are suffering with anxiety or Depersonalization
Disorder. It’s important to feel like your mental illness is normal and that
you are not alone.
-
If someone was to ask me “what’s something
you wouldn’t usually share” anxiety would, in fact, be my thing. Not because of
the anxiety itself or not even how it came about, but how it got worse.
I was in between the ages nine to eleven –
I can’t remember exactly what age - when I first experienced an anxiety attack.
I was lying in bed; drifting off into
slumber when suddenly it felt unusually hard to breathe. I didn’t think
anything of it to begin with. I thought that maybe it was just me and I was
fine. Then finally I realised, after a short while after, that I was still
finding it unusually hard to breathe and now I was beginning to feel panic. I
quickly left my bed, ran to my mum and dad and cried out hysterically that I
couldn’t breathe and that I was going to die.
As my mum quickly got ready to drive me to
the hospital, I held my dad tight, crying out “I don’t want to die.” Of course
he held me even tighter and reassured me that I was not going to die.
When we got to the hospital, by now my
breathing was steadied, but mentally I wasn’t. I was shaking, still crying and
could not fathom what was happening to me. My mum assumed it might be an asthma
attack. Mind you, I have never had asthma before, so we thought it could be
possible that it was my first asthma attack.
Doctors and nurses done tests at all hours
of the morning and they didn’t find anything wrong with me. As far as they were
concerned, I was psychically A-Okay. My mum and I were baffled as to what
happened. Soon enough they sent me home diagnosing me with an “anxiety attack”.
At the age of nine to eleven, I did not have any knowledge on anxiety, let
alone anxiety attacks so life went on as habitual.
After my first anxiety attack at the ages
between nine to eleven, in 2002 – 2004, I did not have any signs of another
anxiety attack, so of course I thought nothing of it and life went on as if
nothing happened. I did, however, battle with clinical depression throughout my
teenage years due to bullying and other factors, which lead to social anxiety.
Because of my social anxiety I stopped the following:
-
Staying at friends’ houses
-
Socializing with people at
school
-
Socializing on the phone
-
Feeling confident with myself
and my body-image
-
Going to parties
Basically, I would isolate myself from
people and became anxious around anything to do with “people”. The only person
I would feel comfortable talking to was my boyfriend at the time – let’s call
him Andrew for the sake of confidentiality and safety.
Andrew was supportive, although I did feel
like he didn’t understand my social anxiety and me. But, nevertheless, he
accepted it and it never became an issue.
That was until 2012. After a three-year
“very close intimate friendship-relationship” with Andrew, we broke up. I felt
lost, confused, broken and most of all, I felt anxious, because my only support
was gone. At the age of sixteen I felt like my world around me was crumbling.
And that was the night I had my second anxiety
attack.
I remember crying so much to the point I
was dry-reaching that Andrew and I was no longer an item. My only stable
friendship was over. I cried, I cried and I cried. I cried to the point where
my body felt like it was shutting down. My breathing was, once again, unusually
hard. My head began spinning and my body began trembling. I was now
dry-reaching because the nausea I felt at the bottom of my stomach. My heart
was racing. I felt like I was having a heart attack. To calm myself down, I
researched my symptoms and the word “anxiety” popped up all over again.
The very next day, I saw my school Chaplin
and gave him a sheet of paper with all the psychical symptoms I had the night
before. He gave me advice and gave me a fact sheet on anxiety and soon after I
was getting counselling for the “loss of a loved one” and my anxiety.
My anxiety didn’t stop there. Every day I
would have at least two anxiety attacks and life before I knew it wasn’t the
same. My anxiety became a part of me and I knew I had to accept it because it
wasn’t going away any time soon.
Early 2013 I was still getting counselling
for my new-found depression and anxiety. Life was different now, I finished
high school, I was in University and I even had a new group of friendships and a new relationship. And that was of
course, Kevin.
At this point, my life felt as though it
was finally coming together rather than falling apart. I was happy.
I still couldn’t stay at friends’ houses
because of my anxiety, I still couldn’t converse on the phone, but I was a lot
more outgoing and a lot more confident with myself.
What I didn’t know was that I was turning
to alcohol for an easy-fix. At the time I met Kevin, I was well and truly
turning to alcohol as my support system, and I never acknowledged my behaviour
until two of my friends told me that I was abusing alcohol – Just to be clear,
I wasn’t drinking every hour of the day, but I was drinking every weekend – and
it only got worse.
In 2013 my anxiety lessened. I now had a
stable relationship with Kevin and I redeemed friendships with old friends.
Andrew and I no longer resented each other and University was great. But I was
still at that point in my life where I was experimenting… except alcohol was
now out of the question.
My parents went away for the weekend, and
Kevin was at graduation with his family, graduating. My friend, who we will
call Katie for the sake of confidentiality and safety once again, was due to
come over at 11:00 PM after she finished work to stay the night and keep me
company. However, I wanted something to keep me occupied in the meantime since
it was only 9:00 PM.
Earlier that night I became in possession
of marijuana and I thought to myself, what better way to occupy myself than to
get high? So, as soon as it hit 9:00 PM, I went out into my backyard and did
what I did.
Looking up at the night sky, I didn’t feel
an affect. I focused myself onto the moon and waited for something dramatic to
happen, but I felt nothing. For a split second the moon turned into two moons
but psychically, I felt no different. Unsatisfied, I went back inside.
This moment changed my life forever (and if
I am being honest with you right now, I am feeling rather anxious and
disconnected talking about it).
As soon as I leaned against my kitchen
bench I felt my heart race faster than it has ever raced before. It felt like
it was fluttering and was about to leave my chest and in that moment I felt a
burst of endorphins ran through me like blood running through my veins. I felt
fantastic and what I thought was “high”.
I made my way into my bedroom to enjoy the
rest of the feeling but as soon as I sat on my bed and closed my eyes a burst
of anxiety and a feeling I still yet struggle to describe come over me.
I no longer had control over my own body
and this scared me. It really scared
me.
I didn’t know what to do. I tried to tell
myself it was only the “weed” that was doing this to me, but I wasn’t convinced.
I actually, legitimately thought I was going to die.
I picked up my phone and after finally
finding my contacts – which would have been easier if I wasn’t high – I dialed
Kevin’s number. When he picked up I told him what I had done and that I knew I
was going to die. I could hear the panic in his voice but he told me to stay
inside and keep myself occupied until he was able to come to the rescue. Of
course, as soon as I put down the phone, I didn’t listen. I went outside and
life felt like it never has ever felt before.
The easiest way to describe the way I felt
is: you know when you have those nightmares when you’re running to your
destination but your destination gets further and further away and you know
you’re never going to get there? That’s how I felt, but it was real life. Not a
nightmare. It was beyond a nightmare.
After a few moments later – which felt like
forever – my phone rang. I picked up
my phone and it was Stevan. The beautiful man he is, stayed on the phone with
me for as long as he could trying to keep me occupied and trying to keep me
from doing something real stupid. After his advice, I went back inside and
tucked myself into my bed and hung up the phone. Moments later, which again
felt like forever, Katie was here. I
was relieved. But still high.
I told her exactly what had happened and
what was happening to me. She made sure I was eating and drinking and made sure
I was safe. Then, finally, Kevin was here.
I began to feel okay. The feeling was
wearing off and I felt exhausted. At 2:00 AM I was asleep.
The next morning I woke up, Kevin was gone
and Katie was lying next to me in my bed and I couldn’t collect any memories
from the night before. I felt scattered and disorientated. Soon after, Katie
left to go to work and I was by myself again. I felt fine. I felt exhausted, a
little sick but otherwise fine.
That was until I had another anxiety attack. This time it felt different. I felt like I
was high all over again and I kept
thinking to myself “is this nightmare ever going to end?!” I became very
frustrated and called Kevin and told him I needed him once again.
Of course he came and he kept me company
and told me I was going to be okay. I wasn’t convinced. I thought I had
seriously effed myself up mentally and psychically. But I remained positive.
That night, because my parents were still away, I invited some friends over for
a drink or two to get my mind off of the experience. But it didn’t get any
better. I kept having anxiety attacks every hour of the day and night and by the
end of the night I was exhausted.
To cut the story short, my parents got home
the next day and I told them what I had done because I couldn’t live with
myself feeling anxious all the time and I was convinced I needed to go to the
hospital. They weren’t happy. But they took me to the hospital nevertheless and
the triage nurse told me she couldn’t do anything about it, as it would take a
few weeks for the THC to leave my system. She reassured me that I should be
fine in the next few weeks. So I went with that.
Weeks and months passed and I still was
experiencing disconnected, almost-high-like anxiety attacks. I was at the point
of my life where I wouldn’t leave my bed because I was constantly feeling
disconnected, as though I had left my body. My daily life became so disturbed I
knew I had to go and see a counsellor. And I did.
I saw my old counsellor and I told him
exactly what had happened and how I have been feeling over the past few months.
Because I had countless of nightmares over my experience, and smelt marijuana
when it actually wasn’t near me, he diagnosed me with minor post-traumatic
stress disorder and later on I self-diagnosed myself with Depersonalization
Disorder.
Today I still experience ‘high-like’
anxiety attacks and my life has never been the same again.
My anxiety is worse than it ever has been.
I get anxious going out to nightclubs in case of someone spiking my drinks and
I feel anxious generally around a lot of people.
So, that’s that. This is my story on
anxiety and how my anxiety came
about.
I apologise for the lengthy post but there
was a lot to talk about and cover, and I applaud you making it this far.
I will be happy to answer any of your
questions.
