Showing posts with label agoraphobia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label agoraphobia. Show all posts

Monday, 5 December 2016

Fantastic Besties (and Where to Find Them)

I am a massive Potterhead. I am part of the generation who grew up with Harry Potter, who eagerly awaited each new books release. I cried when I watched the last film, was one of the first people in the world to see The Cursed Child and I have Harry Potter merchandise scattered around my bedroom. To say that I am a fan is an understatement, Harry Potter is part of who I am, and it makes up my very essence as a person.

Naturally, like many Potter fans, I was very excited when Fantastic Beasts was announced so much so that months in advance I made plans with my three best friends Chelle, Ray and Faye to go and see the film, however this wouldn’t be a normal outing.

Those who have followed my journey here on Safe Space will know that I’ve been making massive progress with my agoraphobia, PTSD and anxiety this past year and I decided that I wanted to tackle my biggest challenge yet: going to the area where my abusive ex lives to go to the cinema and watch Fantastic Beasts. I haven't set foot in this part of town for years and I finally felt like I was ready to tackle my biggest demon.

And then, the Johnny Depp casting news was announced.

For some Potter fans, this was nothing more than a distasteful choice (if problematic to them at all) but when I read the news I actually broke down in tears. You see, Harry Potter has always been a safe space for me. It was also a massive source of comfort to me when I came out of the abusive relationship. When I was bruised and broken it gave me the strength to get up and fight and restored my faith in humanity. So Johnny Depp, a known abuser, being cast felt like a massive betrayal to me, I felt so let down and for a time I felt lost. I made the personal choice to not support this part of the Wizarding World and cancelled my plans to see this film telling my friends to go and see it without me. That was when something unexpected happened.

I woke up to a message saying that they’d been talking and they would rather not see the film and see me instead, a decision that I found incredibly moving. So on the 20th November, the day that we were supposed to go and see Fantastic Beasts, we got together and went for a meal at a pub right next to the cinema so that I could still face my biggest trigger with them by my side.

Looking back I still can’t quite believe that I did it, especially because I was so incredibly anxious that morning but my girls got me through. Over the past year I have faced so many of my demons and they have been by my side every step of the way. They are my Harry, Ron and Hermione not letting me face the darkness alone. They are the tribe that I dreamed of someday finding ever since I was a little girl who learnt what true friendship is from these books.

Magic aside, at the core of Harry Potter is the message of standing up for what you believe to be right, which is something that I feel like I did that day for the women and men in the world who live in fear of their abusers, but also for myself. I took a stand that said this is not okay, I am not supporting that and did something for myself instead and my friends cared about me enough to support me in my decision. Forget Fantastic Beasts, I have fantastic friends and they can be found by my side, always.


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Monday, 14 November 2016

Recovery is Hard

Since we last spoke, I have finished counselling. I am officially in recovery for my mental illnesses and it’s nothing like I thought it would be.

For the first couple of weeks after finishing therapy I was unstoppable, I was going out almost every day doing things that I haven’t done in years, I was on top of the world and having the time of my life. My social life was busier, I looked better, I felt better and I was making everyone around me so proud with my progress which gave me such a buzz and made me determined to push myself further.

For the past two weeks I’ve been going through a really hard time with some family stuff that I won’t go into here out of respect for my family’s privacy. Day by day I’ve been struggling and have felt myself deflate slowly like a balloon.

So right here, I’m going to admit something I haven’t told anyone.

I am in recovery and I am not okay.

I always imagined that when I reached that massive, far off, recovery milestone that things would be easier, that bad days would be a thing of the past and that I’d be able to function just like everyone else. But for me, that isn’t the case. I’m still ill.

Recovery is so much harder than I ever could have imagined. I still have days where it’s a struggle to get out of bed and I still have triggers that I’m not yet ready to face. The only difference is that before it felt okay to have these problems, whereas now there is so much expectation on me to be okay and instead of having my counsellor to guide me out of the darkness I have to try and find the way myself.

Now that I am in recovery I am feeling a lot of pressure to stay in recovery. I’m finding it harder than before to admit to the people around me when I’m struggling, but harder still is admitting it to myself because I am so scared of relapsing.

Recovery is not what I expected and right now I am going through the process of figuring out what it means to me. Here’s what I have so far:

• Being in recovery does NOT mean that I am cured
• It’s okay to have bad days
• Recovery is at my own pace, not anyone else’s
• Being in recovery means that I’m doing better than I was before
• Recovery is the process of returning back to a normal life. It doesn’t happen all at once

I’m learning that recovery is personal to each individual and that everyone’s journey is different. I’m still making great progress and when life throws bricks at me, I keep on getting right back up. That is what being in recovery means to me.


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Monday, 15 August 2016

10 Things I Wish I Knew When I Was Diagnosed With Anxiety

I’ve been living with anxiety for over ten years now and I’ve learnt a lot about it and myself along the way. When I was first diagnosed, I remember being very scared and was given very little information about what having this mental illness meant for me from health care professionals. Looking back there is so much that I wish somebody had told me when I was first diagnosed, so today I wanted to share with you the ten things I wish I knew when I was first diagnosed with anxiety.




Panic Attacks Can’t Kill You 
Even though it really feels like you’re dying sometimes, panic attacks can’t actually kill you. My first therapist told me that most panic attacks usually don’t last longer than 20 minutes. Knowing this made having a panic attack a slightly less terrifying prospect and made them lose some of the power they had over me.

Avoidance Makes Things Worse
When I first developed anxiety, I quickly learnt that a great way to not feel anxious was to completely avoid the things that made me scared which later developed into agoraphobia. Although it’s really tempting to hide away from the things that scare you so that you don’t have to deal with them, it usually just makes the anxiety surrounding the situation worse. Every time you avoid a situation that makes you anxious you are feeding that belief. In my treatment for anxiety, I have learnt that the only way to get over a fear is to become familiar with it and create positive associations and memories around it. It takes a lot of courage to take that first step, but every time you face a fear it loses some of its power and gets easier the next time around.

Medication/Therapy Won’t Change Who You Are 
I used to be so afraid of the idea of taking medication for my anxiety or telling a therapist my deepest darkest thoughts and feelings. I was worried that by treating the mental illness it would mean changing a part of me. I wish I knew how much taking medication and going to therapy would help me so that I would have done it sooner. Medication and therapy has not changed who I am, it hasn’t messed with my brain and made me into an unfeeling zombie. It’s simply made me a less anxious person who can better manage their mental illness.

Not Everyone Will Understand 
The biggest frustration for me when I was first diagnosed with anxiety was how little the people around me seemed to understand about it. For many years my family were at a loss for what to do to help me, they just couldn’t understand why I was terrified of such normal mundane things. Something that really helped things click into place for my family was when I explained mental health in metaphors and related it to the way we treat physical health. Give the people around you time, be as open and honest as you feel comfortable with, pull information from the internet and learn as much about your illness as you can so that you can better explain it. The people you love might not always understand, but them asking questions and wanting to know more shows good intentions and is a starting point so don’t lose heart.

Take Baby Steps
The best method in confronting anxiety for me has been to break things down into baby steps. Scared to walk down the street? Start by just opening your front door. Increase how long you can keep that door open for. When you start to feel more comfortable, take a step outside. Work up to taking three steps away from your house. When you’re ready, walk to the nearest lamppost. See what I’m getting at here?

When it comes to facing your fears you don’t have to dive in at the deep end. Start with the step that feels the most doable to you and work your way up to the bigger stuff at your own pace. It doesn’t matter if it takes a week or a month or even longer to achieve your goal, you’re still kicking anxiety’s butt. Make sure that you celebrate your successes no matter how small they may seem, they’re each a step in the right direction.

Bad Days Are Allowed 
I used to worry so much if I was having a bad day/week/month with my anxiety that it meant that I was going backward. Now I’ve learned that it is completely normal and okay to have a bad day. Even people who don’t have a mental illness have bad days. Life isn’t perfect and there will be ups and downs along the way. These days, if I’m hit with a bad bout of anxiety I try to ride it out like a wave and if I have to take things back a step because everything suddenly seems too hard that is okay. Go back to your easiest step and start building yourself back up again.

Put Yourself First 
Like any illness, when you are unwell it is important that you prioritise and put yourself first. I used to feel really terrible if I had to cancel plans or let somebody down because my mental health was bad but now I realise that on the grand scale of things your health is more important. Never push yourself to do something you don’t feel ready to do for somebody else. Respect yourself, your boundaries and your health and don’t be afraid to take time out to rest and look after yourself.

Mental Illness Does Not = Crazy/Dangerous 
Oh boy, when I was first diagnosed with a mental illness I was so afraid to tell anyone in case they thought that I was crazy and/or dangerous. There is a really negative belief out there about people with mental illnesses and that they might pose a threat or be a danger to society. I used to be really frightened of myself and what I might be capable of. Having a mental illness does not make you dangerous or crazy. You are not about to go on a murderous rampage just because you are ill. So many people are living and functioning in this world with a mental illness. If having a mental illness turned us all by default into the crazy killer stereotype that horror writers are so fond of portraying then the world would be apocalyptic right about now.

Living Life Trumps Fear
Something that I have learnt only recently is that fear is not a good enough reason for me to not live the life I want to, not anymore. Every time that I have felt like I was going to pass out from panic but carried on anyway it has been worth it.

Every. Single. Time.

When it comes to doing the things I want to and living my life, fear is not a good enough reason to hold me back. I would rather be terrified and get to do what I want to, than let anxiety dictate what I can and can’t do. My life is of more value to me than fear.

You Will Get Better 
You know, people used to say this to me and I never believed them. I couldn’t imagine ever getting rid of this albatross that I carry around with me everywhere. Here’s the secret, when people say you will get better they don’t mean that your anxiety will get better, they mean that YOU will get better at managing it.

Ten years on from my diagnosis and I am still living with anxiety, it hasn’t gone away completely and to be honest, I don’t think it ever will. But *I* have gotten better. I have gotten better at dealing with it, I have gotten better at putting myself first, I have gotten better at riding out a panic attack, and I have gotten better at facing my fears. It takes time, but you come to learn your illness and how it affects you and at first you begin to cope and then you begin to thrive. Anxiety doesn’t get better, but you do my friend, you do.


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Sunday, 7 August 2016

Feel The Fear



Feel the fear and do it anyway.

It’s one of those quotes that you hear time and time again (especially as an anxious person) and after a while it just becomes words that you hear rather than a sentence with real meaning. 

The words began to drift over my head, so used was I to feeling the fear and not doing it anyway because: fear.

I did something a bit crazy on Friday. 

I went for a job interview. 

The first job interview I’ve had in over a year. 

The first job interview I’ve had since I had a minor blip in my mental health (read: yearlong battle with agoraphobia.)

I did it.

I actually did something that scared me shitless.

And I survived.

I’d love the job, it’s perfect for me in an environment that I feel safe and calm in. (A university bookshop. Books, bookish people, BLISS.)  But if I don’t get the job then I won’t be sad for long because in having the interview I’ve reminded myself that I am strong, brave, independent, knowledgeable, polite and friendly; in fact for the first time in a long time I finally felt genuine, smile inducing, tummy dancing pride in myself. And that’s rare. But it’s beautiful.

There’s nothing like feeling proud of yourself and not needing to seek validation for that feeling from anyone but yourself. I walked out of the interview with the hugest grin on my face, an extra bounce in my step and a happy heart. Not only had I crushed my anxiety, I’d also managed to have a good interview. (well, good in my opinion anyway!) And I finally had ammunition to fire at the negative voices in my head; they couldn’t get a word in!

I felt the fear and I did it anyway.

Don’t get me wrong…I was shaking with fear as I was eating my breakfast on Friday morning. I kept thinking I needed a wee on the journey there. I had a dry mouth as I approached reception to inform them I had arrived. But then as soon as I was greeted by a bookseller to show me around, something happened inside of me and I just felt this almost serene calm wash over me. I could do this. I had the knowledge, the passion, the experience for the job. I could only do my very best; that’s all anyone can ever do. And even though I was still a little anxious (a normal, understandable level of nerves before an interview) I wasn’t overwhelmed by the feelings that often plague me. For once I felt in control of my anxiety.

And I think the main reason why so many anxious people can't feel the fear and do it anyway is because we have such low levels of self-confidence and self-esteem. We underestimate our ability to cope, we’re told by people around us that we need to stop letting the anxiety control our lives and we feel like we’re drowning in a sea of failure. And it’s hard, so hard, to get out of that pattern of thinking. To take a step outside of the comfort zone and think, ‘I’m going to try this.’

It’s never easy to put yourself into a position where there’s a possibility of failure.

But when you do, it can be so rewarding.



I’m by no means ‘cured’ but I am on the road to recovery. I am slowly widening my boundaries again, taking time to remind myself that I can do whatever I put my mind to, telling myself that I need to live my best life and not let stupid adrenaline and annoying thoughts get in the way.

And I’m doing it for me. 
No one else. 
Not my family or my friends. 
For me.

If you suffer with anxiety and you feel like you can’t feel the fear and do it anyway, trust me, you can.

Build slowly up to it, take small steps, reward yourself every time you succeed. Keep moving forward as slowly as you need to. Remind yourself that YOU are in control. Think of the life you want to lead and keep striving for it. Remind yourself you’re brave and strong and amazing. Don’t let fear steal your life from you.

BE BRAVE.


Feel the fear and do it anyway. 


Sunday, 6 March 2016

Just Pull Yourself Together!

“At least it’s not cancer.”
“So many people have it worse than you.”
“Just pull yourself together; we all have to deal with stuff like this.”
“Have you ever just, you know, tried thinking positively?”
“Mind over matter.”
“What have you got to be depressed about?”

These are just a handful of things that have been said to me and, I imagine, many other people throughout their struggle with mental illness. But why? Why do people regard mental health as a completely separate entity to physical health? Why do people think that it’s just a case of thinking happy thoughts? You wouldn’t say to someone with cancer… “oh, it’s nothing, just think happy thoughts!” Just like you shouldn’t say to someone in the midst of depression, “hey, all you need to do is think happy things!” OMG WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF THAT BEFORE?!?!?!? THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR CURING ME -.-

Mental health is EXACTLY the same as physical health in the sense we ALL have it. Just like physical health, some people have better mental health than others. There are those that are physically healthy and then those that are briefly ill or who have long term physical problems; there are those that are mentally healthy, those that are briefly mentally ill or who have long term mental health problems. It’s the same concept. It should be treated in society in the SAME WAY.

I like to think that throughout our lives we live on a sliding scale for both our mental and physical health. Sometimes we’ll be feeling amazing and we’ll have great health and other times we may not feel so great and be lower down the scale. We are never at one fixed point and that’s OK. Just like it’s OK to have a cold, or break your leg or need some antibiotics for an ear infection. Just like it’s OK to go through depression, or have a psychotic episode or have an intense period of anxiety. It’s OK to slide up and down that scale. (I tried to visually explain this but I fail at art. Soz.)


But, sadly, this is where the similarities end.

Physical health is treated far differently from mental health. If you fall over and break your leg and need some time off work, your boss is likely to pat you on the shoulder and hope you feel better soon. Yet if you were to suffer from a bout of depression and need some time off of work, the same boss may tap you on the shoulder and suggest you’re not committed to the job and are letting the team down.



If you can’t attend someone’s birthday party because you’ve got a nasty chest infection, you’ll be wished well and told you’ll be missed. Yet if you miss the same birthday party because you’re just feeling too anxious, you’ll be told you’re a flake and you let people down.


If you’re having a really tough day and you just really can’t face doing more than staying in bed people may tell you to “get a grip” and to stop being so dramatic because “at least it’s not cancer”.
No, it’s not cancer and I’m glad that it’s not but that doesn’t make my suffering or what I’m going through any less valid or difficult than someone with cancer.


There are many, many times I’ve wished that I could be physically ill instead. Because if I was then people would treat me SO much differently to how they do now. I wouldn’t be criticised at work for not being “smiley enough” during a busy period. I wouldn’t be told to just put “mind over matter” or to “grow some balls”. And I probably wouldn’t be told that I’m letting people down because “I’m not living my life to the full” or doing what a “normal twenty-two year old does”. If I were lying in a bed with cancer that would be the last thought on anyone’s mind. Yet when I lie in bed with depression and have suicidal thoughts, people just think I’m being over-dramatic and selfish?

Go figure.

Some people argue that mental health is easier to go through because you have the power to change it and make yourself better unlike those who may be physically ill and don’t have that ability. And, yes, in some cases that is true. But in the vast majority of cases of physical illness you could say the same too. Got a cold? Take some tablets and wrap up warm. Diabetes? Implement a diet plan and take medication. Broken leg? Put it in a cast and wait until it heals.

So why can’t people with mental illness wait until it heals?

Why are we forced into taking immediate action and made to feel guilty if it looks like we’re not improving? You wouldn’t say to someone recovering from a heart attack, “wow, you had that heart attack like three weeks ago, you still look so rough. You should be better by now.”

WHY WHY WHY DO WE MAKE PEOPLE WHO GO THROUGH MENTAL ILLNESS FEEL REALLY FUCKING GUILTY FOR NOT BEING ILLER?

I am sick of trying to explain what anxiety and depression is like. It’s more than just feeling sad or being a bit scared. It’s completely engulfing and crushing and at times you feel like you’re drowning with no way out. It’s like being in a never ending, dark room and not knowing where the door is to find your way out. You just have to slowly and methodically inch along, searching every single patch of wall until you find that handle to open the door. It’s not about being happy or putting mind over matter. It’s not about comparing my plight with someone else’s.

Just because mental illness can’t be physically seen, it doesn’t mean it’s not excruciatingly painful and real. Yes, you can see a broken leg; yes, you can tell if someone has a bad cough, yes, someone undergoing chemotherapy may lose their hair but just because there are visual symptoms they seem to be cared about more.

Thankfully more and more people are becoming understanding about mental health and are less prejudice about it but there is still a LONG way to go. Sadly one of the reasons for this is that mental illnesses are used as adjectives;


People used the word depressed or depressing to explain something a bit sad which then belittles the experience that people with real depression go through. The same with OCD; it’s not about liking things looking neat and being tidy but how often do you hear people say “I’m so OCD about that.” NO YOU’RE FUCKING NOT. Just like when something scary happens and you have a normal bodily reaction to it you did not just have “OMG A PANIC ATTACK.”

Sigh. Can you tell it makes me a bit annoyed?!

I just wish I could live in a world where it wasn’t a constant competition to see who was worse off or who was suffering more. In comparison to some third world countries we all obviously have a better life. But it doesn’t mean that at the very moment when we’re suffering most that it’s not as bad as or less valid than any other suffering anyone has ever been through.


Treat everyone with care and compassion. One day you may be the one who needs the care and compassion most. 


Saturday, 13 February 2016

What Makes Me, Me - Laura

When Jess asked me to write a piece about ‘What Makes Me, Me’ I hit a bit of a wall. What does make me, me? For so long I’ve labelled myself and presented myself as Laura: the one with anxiety and depression. Instead of letting my mental health problems be a small part of me, I chose to let them define me. Whenever I met someone new I’d try and slip in a “oh by the way I might have a panic attack so don’t panic if I panic” kinda thing. Instead of saying, “Hi, I’m Laura and I have lots of other identifying features aside from my scrambled brain.”

There are so many other things that make me the person that I am. So I sat down and took my anxiety right out of the equation to see what I had left; what else I was made up of. I thought I’d make a list instead of things that make me Laura. 
Here’s what makes me, me:
  •         My insatiable appetite for books
  •         My insatiable appetite for pizza
  •          My addiction to cats, cat videos and the idea that one day I can have LOTS of cats
  •         My love for writing about and reading books, in fact anything to do with books.
  •          My aspirations to be a published author. (I once met with a publisher who liked my writing…WHATTTTT)
  •          My insistence that pyjama bottoms are acceptable every day clothing. (only indoors)
  •           My perpetual need to sleep
  •           My hatred of driving (much to my boyfriend’s annoyance)
  •           My love of Devon (I’ve only been there twice but want to be there foreverrrr)
  •           My lack of travel (I’ve never left the UK or been on a plane. Booo)
  •           My lasagne making skillz
  •           My love/hate relationship with the word ‘bae’. Boyfriend and I started using it in jest and now it has become the third wheel in our relationship
  •           My love for the word pulchritudinous because it sounds like the complete opposite of what it is
  •           My love of crisps (salt and vinegar Tyrell’s if you’re offering, please)
  •           My overuse of exclamation marks, the word ‘just’ and commas
  •           My love for baby things. i.e kittens, puppies and fluffy ducklings
  •           My addiction to stationery and notebooks
  •           My complete disregard for fashion
  •           My complete disregard for makeup that isn’t eyeliner, eyeshadow or mascara.
  •           My lack of interest in TV unless it’s funny or dark and murdery
  •           My love of musicals
And now I’ve got bored thinking about me. (I think I have some sort of brain filter that says NOPE too much self-analysis.) But, there we go; a short-ish list of things that make me, me. Excluding my anxiety and depression and agoraphobia, I’m pretty normal…right? Everyone loves cats and pizza…? (They do, even if they don’t admit it.)

N.B. My anxiety and depression also make me the person that I am today. If I hadn’t spent nearly ten years in the grip of perpetual anxiety and waves of depression then I wouldn’t be as strong and determined as I am today. It’s so easy for people looking in from the outside to say ‘hah, you haven’t left the house in months, you’re not living your life to the full’ but I know that sometimes just getting out of bed in the morning is an achievement. Managing to engage in conversation with my family without spiraling into a panic is an achievement. Heck, even going into the back garden to put some bird seed out is an achievement. Yet I feel bad about this. I feel like I shouldn’t see these things as achievements because no one else does…no one else pats me on the back and says ‘well done for making it through another day.’

But I’m still here, I’m still standing, I’m still trying to find a way to get better and without these years of suffering, of tears, of panic attacks…I wouldn’t have the determination and strength to carry on. Everything listed above makes me happy – they’re the things that compel me to get up every morning; they’re the things that make me feel like a normal person. They give me hope I can one day be the person who walks down the street without crying and running back home.

My anxiety, depression and agoraphobia do contribute to the person that I am, they influence the way I behave and the way I see the world but they’re not the only things I want to use to define myself anymore. I want to feel unashamed to say to people ‘nope, sorry, not today, I don’t feel up to it’ without feeling horrendous guilt and wondering if anyone will ever like me again. I want people to understand that depression isn’t just ‘feeling sad’ and anxiety isn’t just ‘being a bit nervous.’ I want people to acknowledge that something they find a doddle is actually really, really hard for me. I want society as a whole to be more understanding of mental health and how we can all support each other. I want people to ask me how I feel instead of just pretending that my mental health is fine. And, most of all I want people to stop passing judgement on my life and telling me how I should feel and what I should do.

I think I completely went off point there. (Oh, that’s another thing – I like tangents.)

So, that’s me. That’s what makes me the person that I am today: anxiety, depression, cats and pizza.


And I’m cool with that.