Here we are again with another instalment of my Mental Health Series. If you haven't yet read the first 3 entries, here is where you can read them.
Here's Aaron's entry;
2016 was a hectic year for me. In December 2015 I had the best 3 weeks of my life only to come home and have my world unravel. I came into the New Year unemployed and I hadn’t managed to keep a job for any longer than 6 weeks until after I’d had therapy. My relationship fell apart and drove me into depression, which I’m still not over. I lost one of my best friends (they didn’t die we just had a disagreement). And what’s more there have been several upsets in my family due to one particular arsehole. So is it really any surprise that in May I had a meltdown and was diagnosed with anxiety (both general and social) and depression?
Okay so I’ve always had social anxiety for as long
as I remember but I never labelled it. Maybe because I didn’t want to accept it
or maybe I just wanted to bury it deep inside me. In any case it has been an
utter hindrance to my every day life. If I had do delve into my past and think
about the root cause I could boil it down to a few key parts of my life:
·
My
dad left when I was a kid and stopped seeing me altogether before long
·
I
was severely bullied in high school
·
My
girlfriend through high school tried her best to change who I was and was a
controlling maniac
·
Due
to my dad being a pleb my mother over compensated, leaving me with no voice of
my own
So you can see why I would be worried to open
myself up to anyone and why I would be apprehensive about being around people.
If you watch The Big Bang Theory you might know of a character called Lucy, who
also suffers in social situations. And you might remember how she escapes
several times through a bathroom window or simply doesn’t show up. The show
does make it quite funny but I know what it’s like to feel like that. Think
back to the time when you felt the most panicked and imagine being like that
every time you’re in a room with more than one person. That’s how I feel.
It’s not that I don’t want to socialise or meet new
people, it’s just incredibly frightening and draining for me. I am quite a
reserved person anyway but when I am in a group and I have an opinion to share
or anything to say at all, I have to build myself up and work up to it and one
of two things will happen:
1. I will say what I wanted to say but
nobody hears me or
2. By the time I manage to build myself up,
the conversation has moved on and it’s now irrelevant
And let’s just assume that I do manage to force
myself into these situations. The second I arrive I am plotting my escape. And
then I start actually having fun. But then I get drained and then scared. And
then I find a reason or excuse, however ridiculous to escape. And after I’ve
escaped from my panic and fears I can’t help but wonder, “What the fuck is
wrong with me?” And that makes me spiral even more.
It’s not easy to explain clearly what it’s like to
feel so uncomfortable and scared in these situations. The first things that
happens is my heart rate elevates and then I become hyper aware of my situation
and myself. Then in my head are voices telling me all manors of horrible things.
Then it’s like there’s a swarm of bees, a stampede of wildebeest, and a flock
of seagulls all inside my mind and my rational behaviour just leaves me and is
replaced by this demon of self-destruction. I don’t even notice that my
breathing is heavy or that I’m cracking my knuckles or fidgeting or sweating or
even that I’m on my phone. These are my coping mechanisms, or safety behaviours
as my cousellor puts it.
When I am with a group and I manage to share my
opinion, my mouth gets dry, I avoid eye contact, and my voice quietens to a
whisper. And more often than not I completely lose my train of thought and end
up looking like an utter tit because I can’t even finish what might have been a
really good point. Then once again I wonder what is wrong with me.
I’ve mentioned that it’s scary. I’ve mentioned that
it causes panic. But another thing that’s caused is frustration. Imagine
needing the toilet when you’re in a class and not being able to go because what
if someone looks at you or you fall? Imagine not being able to put something in
the bin because what it’s not okay to do that yet or you miss? Imagine not
being able to ask someone in a shop where something is because what if it’s
been under your nose the whole time and you look like an idiot for not seeing
it? This is a mere fraction of the things going on in my head.
I have gone days before without speaking to anyone
or just dwelling, sat in my room listening to sad music and just feeling sorry
for myself, beating myself up for being such a disappointment and a failure. I
have been through several jobs in my life, started several endeavours, 99% of
which have amounted to exactly bugger all. And that’s because of my fear of
rejection and judgement. And by letting myself fail I become even more of a
disappointment. So then I beat myself up even more. By doing this I just make
everything worse. And you might think, “Why don’t you just stick to stuff and
force yourself through it?” And here is my answer: Because I just can’t
A lot of people (who don’t live with anxiety) just
don’t understand what it’s like. They say stuff like “just take a deep breath”
or “it’s not that bad.” This kind of shit is not helpful in any way, shape or
form. It seems that a popular belief is that, if you can’t physically see an issue/disability/illness,
it doesn’t exist. I (and probably others like me) wear a mask when I leave the
house. My mask hides my uncontrollable fear. It hides my weaknesses. It hides
my panic. So through wearing this mask I can create the illusion that I am okay.
And that’s something I have to do because I cannot ask for help. As easy as it
is for most people, I cannot simply say, “I need help”. Luckily my doctor
caught on to what I was going through and pushed me to go for counselling.
Leaving the house to go to my first appointment was
the hardest step I have taken for a long time. And sitting down and talking to
someone about what’s wrong with me was even harder. However counselling is
something that has helped me before. I had the same image in my mind that you
probably do when I thought about counselling; an office with a bookshelf at the
back with leather psychology books on it, a mahogany desk with leather chairs
decorated with knickknacks and thingumajigs. And a man/woman in a suit sat
asking me, “And how does that make you feel?” This is far from the reality. My counsellor
has been explaining to me why I do the things I do and why I think the things I
do. Not only this but she has been equipping me with the tools necessary to
deal with these situations and to combat my self-destructive mind-set.
