There have been times when the good folks over at No More Panic - a discussion forum for people suffering from Anxiety - has been a godsend.
But I've come to realise something. I had a REALLY good weekend of chilling. ALL my symptoms vanished. I was feeling great.
Then I went on No More Panic and spent time catching up with the gossip. Now I feel anxious again.
The problem with these sites is that you can scare the crap out of yourself by reading other people's problems and finding out how long it takes them all to get better.
That's it: I'm done.
Tuesday 22 April 2008
Monday 21 April 2008
Was this written about me?
An extract from "A Spot of Bother", by Mark Haddon
He took a long, quiet breath. "I'm frightened". He stared at the television.
'What of?'
'Of dying...I'm frightened of dying.'
'Is there something you're not telling mum?'She could see a stack of videos beside the bed. Volcano, Independence Day, Godzill, Conspiracy Theory...
'I think...' He pasued and pursed his lips. 'I think I have cancer.'
She felt giddy and a little faint. 'Do you?'
'Dr Barghoutian says it's eczema.'
'And you don't believe him.'
'No', he said. 'Yes'. He thought hard. 'No, not really.'
'Perhaps you should ask to see a specialist.'
Dad frowned. 'I couldn't do that.'
She nearly said let me have a look, but the idea was gross in too many ways. 'Is this really about cancer? Or is it about something else?'
Dad scrubbed ineffectually at a little jam stain on the duvet. 'I think I might be going insane.'
[....]
Katie said, 'I've got to go.'
He didn't react to this, either. He said very quietly, 'I've wasted my life.'
She said, you haven't wasted your life,' in a voice she normally reserved for Jacob.
'Your mother doesn't love me. I spent thirty years doing a job that meant nothing to me. And now...' He was crying. 'It hurts so much.'
He took a long, quiet breath. "I'm frightened". He stared at the television.
'What of?'
'Of dying...I'm frightened of dying.'
'Is there something you're not telling mum?'She could see a stack of videos beside the bed. Volcano, Independence Day, Godzill, Conspiracy Theory...
'I think...' He pasued and pursed his lips. 'I think I have cancer.'
She felt giddy and a little faint. 'Do you?'
'Dr Barghoutian says it's eczema.'
'And you don't believe him.'
'No', he said. 'Yes'. He thought hard. 'No, not really.'
'Perhaps you should ask to see a specialist.'
Dad frowned. 'I couldn't do that.'
She nearly said let me have a look, but the idea was gross in too many ways. 'Is this really about cancer? Or is it about something else?'
Dad scrubbed ineffectually at a little jam stain on the duvet. 'I think I might be going insane.'
[....]
Katie said, 'I've got to go.'
He didn't react to this, either. He said very quietly, 'I've wasted my life.'
She said, you haven't wasted your life,' in a voice she normally reserved for Jacob.
'Your mother doesn't love me. I spent thirty years doing a job that meant nothing to me. And now...' He was crying. 'It hurts so much.'
Wednesday 16 April 2008
My diary....
So as part of my therapy (on-line, I'm still officially undiagnosed...) I've been encouraged to write a diary of my symptoms and when they occur.
It occurred to me that I've been through quite a bit over the last few months....
- Bought my first house
- Got more responsibility at work
- Workload at work went through the roof
- Had car stolen
- Had same car broken into before it was stolen
- Bought new car
- Got accused (wrongly) of being involved in a hit-and-run
- Had an allergic reaction to antibiotics
- My girl has had family problems
- 2 pregnancy scares with said girl
- Had Christmas (always stresses me out)
- Had no time off
So all in all, it's been a stressful time. So it's OK that I'm feeling anxious. It really is. It's OK.
Interestingly, I distinctly remember that my old car (now stolen) broke down on the day I was supposed to be driving 200 miles to Great Yarmouth. My dad and I ran around all morning trying to fit a new alternator. We did it, and then I drove to Yarmouth, on an empty stomach. I felt shocking when I got there, and assumed of course that I was ill. But of course I'd been through loads of stress that day.
So today I had a stressy morning with my bladder, and I had a stressy day yesterday with meetings all day. So it's Ok that I've got a stress headache. It's actually normal.
I'M NORMAL
It occurred to me that I've been through quite a bit over the last few months....
- Bought my first house
- Got more responsibility at work
- Workload at work went through the roof
- Had car stolen
- Had same car broken into before it was stolen
- Bought new car
- Got accused (wrongly) of being involved in a hit-and-run
- Had an allergic reaction to antibiotics
- My girl has had family problems
- 2 pregnancy scares with said girl
- Had Christmas (always stresses me out)
- Had no time off
So all in all, it's been a stressful time. So it's OK that I'm feeling anxious. It really is. It's OK.
Interestingly, I distinctly remember that my old car (now stolen) broke down on the day I was supposed to be driving 200 miles to Great Yarmouth. My dad and I ran around all morning trying to fit a new alternator. We did it, and then I drove to Yarmouth, on an empty stomach. I felt shocking when I got there, and assumed of course that I was ill. But of course I'd been through loads of stress that day.
So today I had a stressy morning with my bladder, and I had a stressy day yesterday with meetings all day. So it's Ok that I've got a stress headache. It's actually normal.
I'M NORMAL
Why I hate the british media
Hate is a very strong word, and it's one I usually reserve purely for describing my attitude towards people who are cuntish.
The British media probably aren't all cunts. I bet there are some of them who are - coke snorting daddies-boys who've had their Porshe's paid for by daddy banker's ridiculous wages he earned whilst pilfering public money. Wankers.
what I'm getting really fed up with is the incessant reams of complete bullwank coming from the British media. I can't turn the TV without being told I'm going to die. I can't turn the PC on without being told about someone else who has died.
Are we (the public) that interested in death, violence and SHIT?
As a proportion of all the people who were alive yesterday in the UK, how many are dead today? 0.001%? Probably less than that. So why is 99% of the news now about death, impending death or something related to death. It's almost no wonder I keep thinking of death, it's pumped into me all the sodding time.
Wouldn't it be nice to turn the telly on and hear some fucking good news?
On the anxiety, my latest update. I've been doing the course with www.anxietycentre.com. I've come to understand my symptoms much more, and I'm doing better. i've realised that stress level 0 equates to no symptoms, stress level 1 equates to dizziness, stress level 2 equates to a headache and stress level 3 equates to urgency to piss. fuck knows what comes with stress level 4. I've been at level 3 a couple of times over the last week, but I'm sat here firmly at level number 2. Which is good for now.
I have a set of guidance notes and I'm feeling positive about the future for the first time in a while. All in all, life's pretty good this afternoon.
Laters.
The British media probably aren't all cunts. I bet there are some of them who are - coke snorting daddies-boys who've had their Porshe's paid for by daddy banker's ridiculous wages he earned whilst pilfering public money. Wankers.
what I'm getting really fed up with is the incessant reams of complete bullwank coming from the British media. I can't turn the TV without being told I'm going to die. I can't turn the PC on without being told about someone else who has died.
Are we (the public) that interested in death, violence and SHIT?
As a proportion of all the people who were alive yesterday in the UK, how many are dead today? 0.001%? Probably less than that. So why is 99% of the news now about death, impending death or something related to death. It's almost no wonder I keep thinking of death, it's pumped into me all the sodding time.
Wouldn't it be nice to turn the telly on and hear some fucking good news?
On the anxiety, my latest update. I've been doing the course with www.anxietycentre.com. I've come to understand my symptoms much more, and I'm doing better. i've realised that stress level 0 equates to no symptoms, stress level 1 equates to dizziness, stress level 2 equates to a headache and stress level 3 equates to urgency to piss. fuck knows what comes with stress level 4. I've been at level 3 a couple of times over the last week, but I'm sat here firmly at level number 2. Which is good for now.
I have a set of guidance notes and I'm feeling positive about the future for the first time in a while. All in all, life's pretty good this afternoon.
Laters.
Monday 14 April 2008
FUCK YOU ANXIETY
Dear Mr Anxiety,
In some ways you have been a friend to me. You've kept me occupied and reminded me of how lucky I am to have what I have. You've reminded me that I do care about a lot of things, you've reminded me how important people and things are to me. You've reminded me that I'm alive. You've reminded me that I've done very well for myself and worked hard.
But I'm afraid our time together has come to an end. I don't normally dump friends via a letter, normally I'd speak to someone face-to-face, mano-a-mano. But you don't seem to want to talk reasonably. You don't want to be decent. You're only interested in trying to fuck me up.
Well, look. This is how it's going to work. I'm a human being. i have limbs and a physical presence. You're just a set of thoughts and it's pathetic. You're beginning to bore me too. it's the same old shit, different day. "what if what if what if what if what if what if what if what if what if what if what if"
Well, I'll tell you what, how about "what if NOT". Ha! Don't like that, do you? Shall I say it again?
*WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT*
What I'm trying to say is it's time for you to go.
In other words: FUCK OFF.
In some ways you have been a friend to me. You've kept me occupied and reminded me of how lucky I am to have what I have. You've reminded me that I do care about a lot of things, you've reminded me how important people and things are to me. You've reminded me that I'm alive. You've reminded me that I've done very well for myself and worked hard.
But I'm afraid our time together has come to an end. I don't normally dump friends via a letter, normally I'd speak to someone face-to-face, mano-a-mano. But you don't seem to want to talk reasonably. You don't want to be decent. You're only interested in trying to fuck me up.
Well, look. This is how it's going to work. I'm a human being. i have limbs and a physical presence. You're just a set of thoughts and it's pathetic. You're beginning to bore me too. it's the same old shit, different day. "what if what if what if what if what if what if what if what if what if what if what if"
Well, I'll tell you what, how about "what if NOT". Ha! Don't like that, do you? Shall I say it again?
*WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT WHAT IF NOT*
What I'm trying to say is it's time for you to go.
In other words: FUCK OFF.
Sunday 13 April 2008
Baring my soul
This period of anxiety has been greater than any period of anxiety I've ever experienced.
My headache has gone, vanished...kaput.
It's been replaced by a constant urge to wee. Honestly, I'm so tense in my bladder I can't get rid of the urge to piss. I went to the emergency docs on Saturday because I thought I was fucked. they said there was no infection, no trouble at all....maybe just the slightest trace of blood - but nothing to worry about. Needless to say I broke down in tears on this poor doctor working on a Saturday morning. Poor girl. She was very, very understanding and urged me to seek medical help for my anxiety. There, i said it. *Urged me to seek medical help*. Sigh. What's next? Anti-depressants? Therapy? I'm officially a crackpot.
Why is this a big deal? Well, this is how my thought processes work.
*SHIT. I need to piss every 5 minutes. SHIT. How am I going to work? How am I going to go out? SHIT. I'm going to lose everything. SHIT. How will my girl ever love me? SHIT....management meetings at work. How am I going to sit through a SIX HOUR meeting without looking like a cunt? I'm going to get fired. I'll lose the house. And the car I just bought. and my girl. Where will I end up. SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT I'M FUCKED.*
Deep down - actually that's a lie, it's not deep down at all, it's very close to the surface in fact - I *know* that all of this is ridiculous. I know that I'm panicking, and that I'm tensing the muscles up down there. i know that. I know that tense muscles are giving me pain, which I'm confusing for needing a wee. I know that part of the classic "fight of flight" response is needing a piss. I know that I'm stuck in some sort of viscious circle. I know there's fuck all wrong with my bladder, my doctor told me so. I know that I can fix this by simple distraction. I know I felt better earlier when i forgot about it and went a very normal 2 and half hours without going for a piss. I know that if I sat down with my boss and explained my issues, he'd understand. I know all that. I know that most normal people don't think about the timings of their bladder movements, and don't particularly care. I know I've been timing myself. I know this is CAUSING the problem. But once I'm off down this track, I can ONLY see the worst outcome.
The likely outcomes vanish.
So what causes all this?
Responsibility, I think.
I currently feel responsible for far too many things. I'm responsible for making enough money to pay the mortgage and the bills.
I'm responsible for arranging the holiday.
If, for whatever reason, I got ill, or went insane, it would affect a lot more than just me. Other people would be hurt. Badly. Other people's lives would be fucked.
Central to this is my ability to work and function normally at work. Take this ability away from me, and my life and the lives of others would be seriously affected.
So, how do I get over this? How do I change my head back to the confident person I used to be?
Maybe acceptance is part of it....
My headache has gone, vanished...kaput.
It's been replaced by a constant urge to wee. Honestly, I'm so tense in my bladder I can't get rid of the urge to piss. I went to the emergency docs on Saturday because I thought I was fucked. they said there was no infection, no trouble at all....maybe just the slightest trace of blood - but nothing to worry about. Needless to say I broke down in tears on this poor doctor working on a Saturday morning. Poor girl. She was very, very understanding and urged me to seek medical help for my anxiety. There, i said it. *Urged me to seek medical help*. Sigh. What's next? Anti-depressants? Therapy? I'm officially a crackpot.
Why is this a big deal? Well, this is how my thought processes work.
*SHIT. I need to piss every 5 minutes. SHIT. How am I going to work? How am I going to go out? SHIT. I'm going to lose everything. SHIT. How will my girl ever love me? SHIT....management meetings at work. How am I going to sit through a SIX HOUR meeting without looking like a cunt? I'm going to get fired. I'll lose the house. And the car I just bought. and my girl. Where will I end up. SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT I'M FUCKED.*
Deep down - actually that's a lie, it's not deep down at all, it's very close to the surface in fact - I *know* that all of this is ridiculous. I know that I'm panicking, and that I'm tensing the muscles up down there. i know that. I know that tense muscles are giving me pain, which I'm confusing for needing a wee. I know that part of the classic "fight of flight" response is needing a piss. I know that I'm stuck in some sort of viscious circle. I know there's fuck all wrong with my bladder, my doctor told me so. I know that I can fix this by simple distraction. I know I felt better earlier when i forgot about it and went a very normal 2 and half hours without going for a piss. I know that if I sat down with my boss and explained my issues, he'd understand. I know all that. I know that most normal people don't think about the timings of their bladder movements, and don't particularly care. I know I've been timing myself. I know this is CAUSING the problem. But once I'm off down this track, I can ONLY see the worst outcome.
The likely outcomes vanish.
So what causes all this?
Responsibility, I think.
I currently feel responsible for far too many things. I'm responsible for making enough money to pay the mortgage and the bills.
I'm responsible for arranging the holiday.
If, for whatever reason, I got ill, or went insane, it would affect a lot more than just me. Other people would be hurt. Badly. Other people's lives would be fucked.
Central to this is my ability to work and function normally at work. Take this ability away from me, and my life and the lives of others would be seriously affected.
So, how do I get over this? How do I change my head back to the confident person I used to be?
Maybe acceptance is part of it....
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