To be (anxious), or not to be (anxious)...

People with panic disorder LOVE it when you tell them there's no escape. It's their favourite thing.

I went to see a special arty, much-hyped mash-up of Hamlet the other night. It was in an abandoned warehouse way out of town, and I really didn't want to go. I didn't want to go for the obvious anxiety reasons: it would be too crowded, there would be no easy escape route (different town and I had to be driven back by someone else), and besides, it just sounded ridiculously creepy.

But my boyfriend convinced me all would be well, so I plucked up my cowardly lion 'noive' and went.

When we arrived in the middle of nowhere, in the industrial estate, in the pouring rain, we were given a laminated card that said the following:

1) Make sure you use the toilets before the production begins, because there will be absolutely no readmittance during the show.

2) If you have to leave for any reason, bear in mind it will be dark and disorienting, so find your way to an usher near an exit - they only will be identifiable by a reflective armband.

3) You will have to stand for 90 minutes.

4) There will be a loud bang during the production.

I'm not joking. It's as if they looked up the symptoms of panic disorder and agoraphobia and literally created an event specifically designed to cause maximum panic. 'So - just when you think your diarrhoea won't stay in any longer, a loud bang will occur, and you will lose your shit in the most literal sense. You will not find it easy to escape once said shit has erupted, because an exit won't be immediately visible, and you will need to beg a strange dark figure with an armband to do so'

Obviously I wanted to run away, but it was too late. I was in the bloody industrial estate. No escape.

Then we went into the main auditorium. Which was mirrored, all around, so once the doors had closed, it was impossible to see which one was the exit. Then all the lights went out, and they played ominous music, and projected Hamlet senior's death scene all over the walls.

I'm not ashamed to say that in my panic, I closed my eyes and mentally intoned 'naarrrrr schwaaaammmmmm' because I read it in some hippy book somewhere, and it was the first thing that occurred to me, and I was desperate. God, I was desperate. After a number of panty breaths and heart palpitations, I miraculously started to calm down a bit.

Anyway, long story short - the show was AMAZING, and I was so distracted by how bloody brilliant it was, I forgot all about the panic.

The moral (for you and me) is this:

1. The annoying thing about anxiety is that you've always got to push yourself further than feels comfortable, and do things you passionately don't want to do. But do them, and MOSTLY things are far, far better than you feared and imagined.

2. I had a really good two, and now I've forgotten it. Just focus on number one then - I think it's pretty good on its own.

PS. How did the writing everything down experiment go? Did anyone try it?

I'm not comparing panic attacks to Nazis. But. You know. They are a bit.