A living, waking nightmare. That’s what anxiety can do to a person, especially myself.
I’ve virtually shut myself away for the whole week. Not been in touch with too many people, just hiding myself away, afraid of facing what the days may bring.
Today, I decided to venture out and go and see somebody. First of all, I decided to have a bit of lunch. Normally, the lunch will go down very well. Today, I didn’t enjoy it as much. My stomach was churning.
The meal finished. I walked to the bus stop. It’s a bright, clear, perfect summer’s day. But to my mind it isn’t. The compartment marked anxiety has opened it’s doors wide, welcoming in more fear and loathing, pouring more fuel onto the already smouldering fire.
The bus was late. So that sets off more anxious thoughts. I can’t do this. I can’t go through with this. And the negative talk took over. Why am I putting myself through this? This is hell. I’m shutting things out and shutting myself away.
The bus sets off, and gets stuck in traffic. On a Sunday afternoon, no less. The anxiety is now manifesting itself as a full blown panic attack. The breathing has gone, the fear is there, and I’m looking for a way out.
The bus isn’t moving, so I get off. I message my intended meeting and cancel. I decide to take a short cut, as I didn’t fancy crossing the road to be stuck in more traffic. The anguish is getting worse. I set off. I get briefly lost, and then I managed to find a short cut, past two games of cricket going on simultaneously. I take no notice of what’s going on. I want to get the hell out of there.
This I do. Every step I take on this warm afternoon, I seem to take two back. I knew I shouldn’t have gone out. Anxiety is ruling my life again, and ruining it. My coping mechanisms are not working. All I want to do is slink inside my flat and lay down.
I get a couple of bits from the shop and I lay down on the sofa, mentally exhausted. I’ve only been out for a couple of hours, but it feels like a couple of days. It’s nightmarish, it’s hell on earth to have to be coping with this, or failing to cope, to be more accurate.
This isn’t good at all. I put off the doctor’s appointment the other day as I believed that Friday wasn’t a bad day. No two days are ever the same. I just want to hide, to keep my head down and not do anything. That’s not laziness or lack of motivation, it’s illness. Pure and simple.
Fan on in the front room. Still breathing hard, still in a state of panic. I only made it halfway today. They should rechristen me the Grand Old Duke of York. Though there isn’t an army of 10,000 men, it feels as though some are infiltrating my mind, wreaking havoc.
What a nightmare.
Allen Brooks xx