It's all me, me, me...

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Vivre Sa Vie
London, United Kingdom
Well hello there. My name is Viv (well, it's not really), and, like a lot of people, I'm ever so slightly neurotic... I have panic attacks and anxiety (ranging from mild to pretty intense), on and off. I also have an amazing and quite high-profile job, so I'm choosing to remain anonymous on here. Not because I'm ashamed of the aforementioned neuroses, but because I don't want to be googled and for my colleagues to read bizarre posts about me breathing into a paper bag and popping lorazepam. I've worked for bookshops, mixed arts festivals and charities, and have met (and still meet!) a lot of famous, fetching and fantabulous people for my job. (See, anxiety doesn't need to stop you being AWESOME and doing what you want to do) Here's hoping you'll find some helpful hints and tips on here which will help you tackle the evil panic heebiejeebs... PS. I'm an Australian, but I live in the UK, and have adopted tea-drinking, pubs, Wodehouse, and a Welsh man.
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Friday, 22 June 2012

Here comes the sun (and attendant free-floating anxiety)...

'Pssst, hey, girls, are any of you finding it hard to breathe right now?'

Hi guys. I know I'm getting slow with these posts, but I'm having some very boring and predictable anxiety of the self-pitying breed, and pretty sure no-one's really reading them anyway. Yawn.

I'm in a bit of a grump because I'm going on holiday.

Now how ridiculous does that sound?

Ever since the dawning of my new age of anxiety, the wonderful, incredible, blessing that is an annual holiday now fills me with fear and dread. And that fact fills me with fury and anxiety.

It's ever since I went to Berlin with my boyfriend and spent the plane ride in the grip of one of the worst attacks I've ever had, and then the rest of the week sobbing and panicking and sobbing and panicking, and ringing my mum in Australia and sobbing, and ringing my therapist every evening and sobbing, and walking down the street and thinking I was going to die and sobbing and panicking. We were in a five star hotel (the Ritz Carlton) and it was meant to be romantic. I felt so guilty I can't even tell you. How would you feel if you were my boyfriend and you'd got all ready for a romantic break after working hard all year, and your girlfriend totally and utterly freaked out and cocked everything up? No sexy time, no romantic dinner time, just getting places, panicking, and going home to the hotel and sobbing. And wanting to go home, but being petrified of the plane ride, so planning a land-crossing instead. Oh my sweet Jesus, it makes me feel sick to even think of it.

And of course then there was my most recent claustroholiday.

So despite the fact that I've had hundreds of amazing holidays in my life, and I have had a couple of reasonable ones since, I now can't get rid of the worry that this may be another horror movie like Berlin.

I went to my hypnotherapist last night, and he made it all better - and I felt amazing. But then this morning I woke up and was terrified again. We're leaving tomorrow morning.

Please God let it be okay. Let me not ruin things for my boyfriend. Let me not ruin things for myself. Let me not waste all of our money. Let me summon up my adventurous spirit that I USED to have in spades before all of this crap. Let the statistics be right and Berlin just sink into history as an aberration. Let me relax and enjoy this - because there is nothing to worry about, nothing to fear, nothing to feel unsafe about. Please God let me just be normal and enjoy this! And if anyone is reading this, if you could send some general good vibes in my direction as well that would be really, really very much appreciated.

V x

'Hey, let's play a really cool game - let's pretend that  sharks and body hatred and skin cancer don't even exist!'


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