Ten things I know about panic attacks...

This is you, trying to navigate the modern world with an ancient monkey brain. You're afraid of lions but there are no lions any more, so you're a bit confused, gawd bless you. 

An attractive young woman ran out of one of my events yesterday, after having what turned out to be a panic attack. She is, as so many panic sufferers are,  a highly intelligent, capable, and likeable person, and we chatted about the panic demons for a bit whilst she calmed down. She's not yet read an awful lot about this stuff, so I got to thinking about what I would like to have read when I first started getting to grips with it. Results below...   

Ten Things I Know About Panic Attacks 

1. Brilliant people have them. Oh yes. Some of the most beautiful, talented, courageous, hilarious, intelligent people who have ever stalked this earth have had panic. You're not weird, I promise. (Well, you may be a bit odd of course, but that's got nowt to do with the panic I'm afraid).

2.  They're not your fault! You've got to stop blaming yourself, and I'll give you three good reasons why...

      a) You're part-man/part-monkey (interestingly, or not, that is also the name of this not very good  Bruce Springsteen song). You're negotiating a modern landscape with an ancient ape-ish brain that is hard-wired to respond to the fight-or-flight mechanism. We are the descendants of some pretty alert and anxious chimps - the ones who heard a rustle in the bushes and thought 'it could be a lion, but then again, what are the chances, maybe it's just a stiff breeze?' all got eaten. We got the neurotic genes - tough break.

       b) Something in your past might have made this more likely. You may have had an unstable childhood, or been the victim of some trauma, or had a hypochondriac Dad. It's no-one else's fault either, but remember that outside forces have moulded you and made you the person you are today.

      c) You may just have a rubbish brain. Some people don't produce enough thyroid hormone (moi, for example), and some people don't retain enough serotonin. That's it. You didn't make it happen did you? Take it up with God when you next bump into him.

You've got to be easy on yourself. It's shit enough going through all this crap without the meta level of self-flagellation on top.

3. They go. And come back. And go again. If there's one thing I've learned I've from my boyfriend, it's how a wiggly line on a graph goes. His wise counsel is that a general upward trend on a graph is rarely straight - there are ups and downs and ups again. Whilst the downs may be lower than yesterday's ups, they're still higher than the downs a year ago - BUT - that's really hard to see from your perspective, seeing as how you're trapped in the graph.  

4. CBT really helps. My free NHS CBT course was hands-down the best thing I ever did for my panic attacks. 

5. You're not going to die. Or go mad. I PROMISE. Your heart races much faster than this when you're running (and that's considered good for you), and your breathing will not stop (your body won't allow that to happen), and will return to normal in a little while. I PROMISE. No-one has ever died of a panic attack, and no-one ever will.

6. Wishing them away makes them worse. Both in the instant they're coming, and just generally. The most suffering I ever experience is when I get furious and rail against them like a trussed up tiger, and my thrashing and rejecting ends up just tightening the knots around me. Some people get wonky noses, some people get IBS, some people get cancer, some people get panic attacks. You might have them for life, or they may go at some point. But you have to accept them for now, or you'll increase your misery exponentially. 

7. They're not all bad. All of this hardship has actually brought me a lot closer to both of my parents, and I've learned (well, am still learning) to be okay with being vulnerable. Which I've been told makes me even more likeable! Keep in mind that you're picking up some pretty good life skills here in the crucible, so you are in no way wasting your time or effort.  

8. They're funny. Learn to see the funny side of anxiety and panic (and there IS a funny side). Learn to laugh at fear rather than cowering from it, and by doing so - puncture its menace and remove its power.

9. You can cope. A large part of anxiety is fear of not being able to cope, to deal, to handle. But you have coped your whole life - all the way up until this very minute. Why would you stop now? You have the strength to cope with this, and anything else life throws your way. 

10. All of the above are really difficult to put into practise. And that's okay. As my exceptionally wise and beautiful friend told me - this is a process, it's not a solution. You may forget half this stuff, and not be able to put the other half into practise, but you're trying, and you're learning stuff all the time. Just accept that you're taking baby steps - this is not a race. 


Hey, new girl - you're doing just fine! Everything's going to be okay. It really is. 

x 

You gotta roll with the punches of outrageous fortune (as I believe Shakespeare once said...)

  

YOU ARE BRAVER THAN JOHN WAYNE!

Yep, he may have been a big old lily-livered-lefty-hater, but I'm afraid (see what I did there) John knows his onions when it comes to cojones...if that's not a mixed metaphor too far

I was having tea (peppermint, natch) with an old work colleague of mine who also has serious GAD issues (which, incidentally, I only found out about because I 'outed' myself to him on a whim, and he shocked me to the core by revealing he TOO suffered horribly with it), and is going through a bit of a bad patch at the moment. As we swapped war stories in the meditation centre cafe (ha, natch again), he shook his head and said my advice was all well and good, but that I was much braver than him, so he wasn't sure he could take it.

And this was enough to pierce through my panicked haze and make me forget my trembling hands on my teacup (still staggering up the Prozac ramp) momentarily, and I proceeded to give him a very stern lecture about bravery - the gist of which I will outline now, but in a much more lucid and Cicero-ish manner than I managed at the time.

No. NO! Listen up, Woody! You think you're a coward because you can't do things other people do without batting an eyelid? Think about it. The very concept or definition of bravery entails fear - it doesn't make any sense at all without it. As some bright spark once said, 'bravery is not the absence of fear, it is the mastery of fear' (or somesuch) or as John Wayne had it - 'bravery is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway'. Let's be clear: there's nothing remotely brave in not being frightened at all.  Courage is peering into the jaws of the beast - whether imaginary or real - and walking forward anyway.

Consider the person who travels in to work on the tube of a Monday morning, blissfully chomping through a pain au chocolat and listening to a comedy podcast. Would you call them brave? Or courageous? Of course not; it doesn't make sense to, because they are not afraid. They may be easygoing, or relaxed, or happy, or peaceful, or any number of things. What they are not, is brave.

Contrast that with the person with panic disorder, who arrives at work at the same time as person A, and says 'hi' to them at the coffee machine. This person set out for work maybe half an hour before person A, and was pacing the house a full three hours before that. This person woke up terrified after a few hours sleep, and was so full of fear and dread they were sick before breakfast. This person cried before leaving the house, because they were so petrified of getting on the tube and of what the day would bring. This person walked to the tube anyway. This person got on the tube, had a panic attack, believed they were going to run out of air and die, and got off again a few stops along. This person took a pill, phoned a friend, cried in the corner, waited for half an hour, and got back on the tube again. And off again, and on again, until they finally made it into work to start their day.

And this person thinks they are a coward. This person berates themselves for being weak, and this person worships person A for being brave. 

This person is not a coward. What this person is, is an eedjit! This person is conquering terror and fear EVERY SINGLE DAY on top of living the life everyone else finds so hard! This person does ten rounds with a slavering hell-beast before breakfast! This person has fought more truly, genuinely courageous and brave battles than person A has had happy, hot dinners! This person needs to wake up, smell the bloody coffee, and realise they are SUPERHUMANLY, OBSCENELY BRAVE, and could by all rights wear a cape and undies on the outside by now! 

This person is you. So suck it up, SuperYou, and stop calling yourself a coward. Or I'll come round there and knock some sense into you. And you don't want that, because I've fought the kind of demons that would make Buffy drop her stake, wet herself, and run home crying to Giles.

'Just got to quickly wrestle these before work, won't be a sec....'

           

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!'

So, you're having the worst day of your life...?

I just thought I'd put together some emergency self-care steps for those days/nights when you really have been wrestling with the hideous dark panic demons, and you feel so anxious and bewildered you could chuck yourself under a truck. You can't do anything, you can't leave your house, you're having panic after panic, and you don't feel capable of even the tiniest thing. You're terrified, sleepless, and at your wit's end.

These are basic, emergency care steps that will help you back on the road to normality (and most of them were told me by my therapist when I was in crisis, so have official psych sanction).

1. If you have one, take a tranquiliser. Just take one now. Don't overthink it, just do it. This is an extreme and horrendous day - and they are specifically made for occasions like this. They will give you a small window of peace so you can collect yourself a bit, and give you a few hours away from fear, which will break the vicious cycle of fear-panic-more fear-more panic etc etc. You probably haven't slept very well, and these will give you space to do that as well (which you desperately need).

2. Drink a huge glass of water before you do anything else. You've probably been crying (which apparently dehydrates you more than you think), and dehydration makes anxiety (and everything) a lot worse.

3. Have a warm shower, rub yourself down with some nice lavender moisturiser, and get into some fresh, clean, soft cotton clothes (pyjamas etc). These tiny things you would never normally notice can mean so much when you're at rock bottom. Sometimes the pleasure of clean skin and clothes is all you're going to get in a day.

4. If you can't eat, try and drink a Complan (Ensure) or a smoothie. Just get even half of it down. The body produces adrenalin when your blood sugar drops below a certain level, so getting anything down will make you feel so much less jittery.

5. (This one's courtesy of my Dad) Do something small that gives you a sense of control and mastery. It can be absolutely tiny - doing the crossword methodically is what I did when I was beside myself with terror. It's something to do, it's something you know you can do, but it's manageable.

6. If you're on your own, call someone - family or a good friend. If you're with someone, explain what's happening - don't be ashamed - and get yourself a big-ass hug.

7.  Do whatever you need to make you feel good, and don't censor yourself. Watch gentle comedies if you can sit still. Hug your favourite soft toy (and don't feel stupid about it). Read your favourite kids' book. Call your mum. Leave the light on if you're scared and you need to. Don't judge yourself for regressing a bit - you're at rock bottom and you need these things, but you won't always.

8. If you're at this stage, go for a little walk. Round the block is fine, to get a magazine from the newsagents is fine. Don't worry, you'll be travelling to amazing places soon, but for today, a walk round the block is all you can manage, and it's enough for now. If you can't - DON'T WORRY. You're not going to end up housebound - you are just looking after yourself indoors for a couple of days, and that is OKAY.

9. Know that THIS WILL PASS. I know exactly what this feels like, I've been there, but I also know that I'm not there now, and it passed. You have to hold on, you have to be patient, you have to grit your teeth and BEAR IT, just like you would have to bear some sort of physical pain.

10. Check out the anxiety heroes here, and remember how many brilliant, beautiful, brave people have suffered with anxiety and depression, and remember that you are not alone. You're amazing and courageous for dealing with this, and you will come out the other side stronger. YOU CAN DO IT!

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 Viv admits she's scared...

I suddenly thought I should clear something up.


I've tried to make this blog as funny, light-hearted and full of helpful hints, tips and stories as I can - but that doesn't mean I'm always being fabulously flippant about this condition, or laughing heartily and with gusto at my silly little predicaments (what larks etc).


Au contraire kids. Sometimes I get absolutely furious, and I mean FURIOUS, with the whole kitten caboodle, and don't find a single element of the bloody thing funny at all.  


I've been visiting my Dad and today I have to leave to go for a couple of nights away with my boyfriend. It's in another city, and I'm nervous about going. I've got a cold, which always makes my anxiety worse, and the claustroholiday extravaganza has made me even more apprehensive about going away again than I would already be.


So this morning I've been battling the runs, and have sobbed into my tea because I'm so frightened of taking this next step. I used to absolutely LOVE travelling and going to new, exciting places (and I know I will again), and so this reduction of my natural personality and abilities drives me crazy.


It strikes me that anxiety and panic is a constant business of re-learning things. I used to be fine on trains - then I got ill, and had to learn how to be comfortable on them from scratch. Then I felt better, then I didn't get on one for a couple of weeks when I had a blip, and then I had to learn how to do it all over again. So it feels like you're getting back up on the horse only to get knocked off, and then having to learn how to ride all over again. But it's the only way of moving forward, because if you don't push through that initial horrible phase, you never re-learn, and end up with your lifestyle severely curtailed (and you never discover that what you fear most is only an illusion).


So I'm going to go and leave this safe place, and jump on that train, and go to a place I've never been before, and try not to worry, and try not to imagine the whole few days ahead in infinite detail (the dreaded 'what-ifs' that plague me at moments like these), and just take things as they come.


And I know I'll find this all funny again in a week - or maybe even a day or so. (And don't fret  - the funnier posts will be back then, too).


Here goes!


V x


PS. And yes, I will be taking a Lorazepam if that's what you were wondering - I'm not a complete masochist... 


PPS. Leave some comments people - I can see you're reading, so join the fantabulous, spectacular party in the comments pages! You know you want to...

Put on your pearls, girls...

One for the laydees...

People with ovaries, I want to talk to you. Hear me now, for I want to talk to you about the MIGHTY power of the humble cosmetic in the war against anxiety and down-in-the-dumpedness. Don't get me wrong. You were all born with beautiful faces, and they look fan-bloody-tastic unadorned and unkempt. I love wild, patchy eyebrows, shiny non-mascara eyelashes and rosy cheeks, and there is nothing more liberating than showing your naked face to the world.

BUT. Maybe you've been crying. Maybe you've been up all night fighting the night terrors, or ruminating on your inability to get in a lift. Maybe you woke up with the horrible cheer-sucking dread, and thought you couldn't face the day.

Gentle women, days like these aren't 'nude look' days. On days like these, the nude look will be more like blotchy, puffy, engorged toad-face-look. On days like these, you need RED LIPSTICK.

(I like MAC's amazingly matte and forties Ruby Woo and Russian Red)

Look at Lucille - she knows the power of a good red lippy...

Lashings of black mascara (maybe waterproof if you're still feeling wobbly), some powder, and a spritz of your most expensive perfume later, and you will feel a million miles better - I promise.

And if not, at least you will be the hottest, most AWESOME, most mysterious looking troubled lady since Marilyn (evidence you can be bad, sad, and still very, very hot).