Some not-particularly-interesting things that happened this Easter...

'Do I feel demeaned by this? Yes, yes I do. But somebody's gotta pay for my ten-a-day Creme Egg habit'

1. I finished the last of the Potters. Totally bereft. Wish I was a wizard. Wish I got to hang out at Hogwart's, being twelve, doing spells. And stuff. Real life seems a bit dull and uninspiring.

2. Started reading Sara Benincasa's Agorafabulous - which is an AWESOMELY hilarious account of one lady's descent into full-blown, room-bound, peeing-in-bowls agoraphobia (and her incredibly brave and equally hilarious clamber back out of it).

3. Cleared out my wardrobe and discovered some pre-Pregabalin (awesome anti-anxiety drug I will talk about soon) jeans, that look like they would only fit a starved midget. How was I ever so thin? I'm not fat now by any stretch, but the Pregabalin definitely plumped me up a bit, and I couldn't even barely get my toe in these jeans. Feel weirdly jealous of my lithe and calm younger self.

4. Bought an achingly-trendy duck light I've been coveting for months. Is fabulously vintage-looking and glowy. Boyfriend thinks it's sinister. I have to admit its eye is beadier than I thought it would be. Hope it doesn't freak me out when I wake up with panic attacks, as it was meant to be a nice comforting thing for that exact situation.

5. Woke up feeling strangely apprehensive, nervous and a bit sad every morning for no apparent reason. I think my anxiety gets worse when I have time off and nothing planned, and I get a jolt of panic when I suddenly think I've got nothing to do with myself. Reminder to myself to do a morning anxiety tips section on here, as I think that's a pretty common thing.

6. Made plan to make more plans. I have a bad case of planophobia (friend and boyfriend diagnosed). I hate to make arrangements in advance, as I hate feeling trapped and like I can't escape from stuff, so my friends secretly arrange dates with me with my boyfriend, and he springs them on me like they're spontaneous, and everything works swimmingly. Apart from the fact that sometimes it really pisses them off and drives them crazy, which I completely get. So I'm turning over a new anti-anxiety leaf to just screw it and make plans and ask for forgiveness if I want to pull out for whatever reason. Will keep you updated on how that goes...

7. Ate too many Easter eggs and worried about sugar/caffeine anxiety bomb, but was miraculously OKAY. Pheeeeyew.

Hope all is good with you guys, and you made it through the Easter weekend unscathed by panic demons or cocoa-based anxiety bombs. Will post a new anxiety hero very soon...

In which I come out of the Potter closet...

Ok guys. This is it. I'm going to do it. I'm going to come out of the closet. Today is the day I embrace a dark and shameful side of myself that I've been hiding from everyone apart from my boyfriend. 

Deep breath. Here goes...

My name is Viv, and I love the Harry Potter books

Now hang on, before you start protesting - I know you think this isn't a big deal, and that loads of people read them blah blah blah and anyway, it's all totally passe now in any case.

But I'm not loads of people. I'm a snob. I'm a big, fat intellectual snob. I did an English and Philosophy degree, and I worked in a bookstore for years and years, and I only read difficult, impenetrable novels with no punctuation, and no plot, and no ending (I did once have a guy come into the bookshop to try to return a book because he thought it was missing some pages at the end, and I had to break it to him that it just had a really shit and abrupt ending because it was avant-garde).

I have sniffed at the Potter sensation for years. I worked a Potter launch party and staunchly avoided even looking at the first page of the book. I fielded thousands of European students asking for 'arry potterrrrr' every five seconds of the day. I groaningly listened to millions of middle-aged women who said I really should read them. I avoided every single film and scoffed at my friends who went. I mercilessly tormented my boyfriend for having read them, and made him hide his shame (the boxset) in the spare room, on the very bottom shelf, so that my Samuel Becketts and Hans Falladas and Richard Yates' would not be sullied by association, and so that our guests would not think we were seriously mentally challenged or illiterate.

And then one night, one very dark night, I woke up with a huge-ass panic attack, and I couldn't sleep. And I was weak, and tired, and all my books loomed at me with their big themes and domestic rape scenes and I realised I had nothing non-threatening or comforting to read. And then I saw it - on the bottom shelf in the spare bedroom - gleaming at me in all its shiny foiled glory - Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.

I thought I'd just read a few pages to lull me back to sleep. I'm now on the second to last book, and I'm absolutely, helplessly, haplessly, hopelessly addicted. I'm also ten years late. Daniel Radcliffe is almost a bloody pensioner. Everyone has got over it. The kids who loved them are all grown up and getting into Beckett now. So it's just me, apologising to my boyfriend, admitting I was wrong (that never happens), and making excuses so I can go to bed really early and keep reading. Because I conscientiously avoided it all there have been absolutely no spoilers, so I genuinely don't know what's going to happen next. I'm in a fantasy time-warp.

Guys - they're amazing (I know you know this, but let me say it). They are calming panic attack fodder. They have all sorts of amazing metaphors about fighting demons and darkness and bad things. They are sublime. I am going to have a complete breakdown when I finish them.

But then I can start on the films...

Moral(s) of the story:

1. Sometimes (not often) I'm REALLY, REALLY wrong. About EVERYTHING. Apart from holiday camps
2. You should read them too (if you haven't already, which you probably have).

This post is humbly dedicated to my wonderful boyfriend who is most definitely NOT a big loser for reading children's books. Consider this a (very small) official retraction.

Reasons to be cheerful...

'Well, that's simply marvellous! I would LOVE to hear your avant-garde Hegelian haiku!'

1. I just had (and paid for) a posh boozy London lunch with my pater familias, and did not have a panic attack.

2. I was hungover and premenstrual (sorry chaps) on Sunday, and did not have a panic attack

.

3. I bought a book called 'Optimum Nutrition for the Mind'* which will tell me about loads of costly supplements I should take that will take away the panics and cure me forever. Woop! I can't wait to go and splurge in a health food store on loads of panaceas that have been extracted from rare Guatemalan jungle flowers and cold-pressed by the light of the moon. I will keep you updated on my miraculous recovery.

4.  My friends think I'm insane because I am absolutely not afraid of all the poisonous Aussie things that freak them out ('whaat, you went and played netball even though you had a paralysis tick in your ear?!') but get freaked out by being on the tube or getting on a plane or being stuck somewhere. You see, I AM brave and fearless dagnabbit, just about dangerous things. I am only frightened by non-dangerous, non-life threatening things that probably won't happen. Duh.

5.  I make my friends laugh a lot (I am sometimes witty), I give my boyfriend hysterics  and I am mostly the life and soul of parties. That makes up for occasionally crying in toilets and backing out of things at the last minute and curling up with my lavender oil and back-to-back HBO series. Shit - everybody's got to have SOMETHING, and this, girls and boys, is mine (and yours).

6. The new Bruce Springsteen album is out. 

7. On Sunday I had a raspberry ripple chocolate brownie and some codeine headache pills and found them to be a very medicinal and soothing PMS combination (sorry again chaps - might work for the manopause too).

8. I have had a fringe cut by my gorgeous gay pal (every girl's got to have one you know) in his 1950's style dining room (listening to Judy Garland - it's like gay bingo), and now I look less like a tramp and more like a poor man's Zooey Deschanel. 

9. One day I will own one of those cats that are like dogs, and I will call it Walter, and we will have a love like no other (not like that you filthmongers) and I will walk it everywhere on a leash.

10. Nutella exists.  And when you are an adult no-one can tell you off for eating it from the spoon until you feel sick. And the ads say it is nutritious and full of calcium, which is really good for anxiety. So there.

*Note that the boyfriend has already pointed out the irony of my using a sweet wrapper as a marker in my  'food for the brain' book...

Books for your anxious monkey mind...

Panicked bibliophiles rejoice, for today I have literary suggestions to soothe your fevered brow...



Self-help for your nerves

An absolutely fantastic book - if you can look past the slightly worrying 70's references. There's a lot of vaguely condescending asides about bored, pill-popping housewives, and you have to replace the word 'nerves' with 'anxiety' so you feel less like a hysterical stepford wife in a floral bedcoat breathing into a paper bag. But it's incredibly comforting, soothing and reassuring - especially in the early stages when you have absolutely no idea what is happening to you, and are wondering when you will be taken away and bundled into a loony bin. 

 The author suffered with panic attacks herself, and knows only too well that the 'snap yourself out of it' or 'be patient' prescriptions don't necessarily work when you are crippled by fear. So she takes you by the hand and offers very wise, calm advice in the 'float past it and accept' kind of vein. Like having your anxiety-expert gran wrap you up in her tufted chenille bedspread and whisper soothing words of wisdom. 

Anxiety and phobia workbook

An indispensable reference book. Definitely a must-have for anyone with GAD, panic disorder, or OCD. Has an absolutely huge but navigable amount of information about everything to do with anxiety - from nutrition and existing health complaints that can trigger anxiety, to visualisation techniques, self-talk recommendations, and exposure therapy etc. If you're lost in the horrifying vortex of the Amazon self-help section, let this be your anchor. Buy it.

The Compassionate Mind

If you're a bit of a self-flagellator, then this is the book for you. Stern words, bullying , and screeching at yourself to pull it together won't work - it will only make you freak out even more. 

Being compassionate towards youself is one of the best things you can do for your anxiety - but it's a pretty hard habit to learn. Especially if, like me, you have a red-faced, throbbing-veined, vicious headmaster inside you who jumps up and down and demands perfection and snaps a cane over the desk and says 'sort it OUT you crazy woman! It's just a plane - what is wrong with you??!! Look at all the nice, normal people enjoying their bloody Mary's and not imagining fireballs and emergency water landings in shark-infested waters!!'. 

Definitely a good move to replace that guy with a nice Buddhist monk who smiles and says 'it's okay - you're doing amazingly, incredibly well, and everything is going to be ALRIGHT. And you are the coolest person I have ever met, by the way...'