A day in the life of generalized anxiety.
Age: 16 Year: 2011
As I wake up and my mind starts to switch on for the day, I enjoy the way the morning sun dances on the wall beneath my curtains. Sitting up, I begin to think of the day ahead. It's Thursday, which means school followed by work. As I try to run through the process of what I need to do to get ready, the onslaught of questions begins. My body immediately switches to what has become its natural state of being; tense, on edge, ready to respond to danger.
What should I wear today? Will I look too big in my skirt? It's not PE day today, so I might get in trouble for wearing my PE uniform, but better that than feeling completely uncomfortable in my skirt. Do I have all my books? What if I forget one? People will think I'm stupid and forgetful. 7:45am, Crap. What if the bus is late again? Oh no, my assignment is due today. Is it really ready to hand in? Is it perfect? I need to get full marks. Maybe I can come up with an excuse to hand it in tomorrow so I can check it again. I need to get going. Shit, I need my work stuff. Who's managing tonight? What if I make a mistake on the tills?
I eventually do make it out of the house, but only after triple checking everything. I run to the bus stop. Don't want to miss it. Sitting down in my usual seat that I MUST sit in to feel somewhat safe and in control, I settle in for the ride. This used to be easy, but now the whole trip is taken up by the need to hold my breath around each sharp corner, analysing the drivers movements to make sure they are being safe, and sitting on crossed fingers hoping nothing hits us. My chest tightens with every bump and lurch, but I manage to actually make it through the whole bus ride today. I get off feeling like I have just been on an insane roller coaster that I did not enjoy.
The rest of my day follows in a similar fashion. The streams of questions in my mind never really have an answer, but have me living in a state of heightened arousal constantly. I am careful where I sit and stand in each room, making sure I can always see what is going on. When something happens that I can't handle, I escape to one of my few safe havens, the bathroom or the band room. Today though it gets bad enough that I end up in the school counsellors office, and that ends in an asthma attack. By lunch time I am exhausted, and I have no recollection of anything we just covered in Maths class. My mind is too busy anyalysing everything to take in new information. I'll have to go through the content later, at home, when I'm safe.
Walking through the halls I am the ultimate observer. I see the other students like me, the way their body language tells of unspoken torment within. I see who is looking where and am acutely aware of multiple conversations going on around me. I decide sitting with people at lunch is too much today. What if I say the wrong thing? With the help of just one close friend in a little nook under the stairs, out of view, I sit and try to calm my relentless mind before I am forced back into the dreaded classroom. One more to go.
The bell rings. Made it. I feign the need to rush to work so I can make sure I catch the early early bus, and to avoid the after school chatter. No doubt I'll say something stupid.
Work flies by in a similar rush of adrenaline as I try to keep on top of everything I am meant to be doing, but at least I feel safer here. My favourite manager is on which helps immensely, so even when a couple of angry customers bring tears to my eyes and make me want to run and hide, I know I have plenty of support and backup. I put everything in its place, organise things, make it all perfect. Feeling in control is a relief. Nothing bad is going to happen here.
Finally, 9pm comes and it is home time. One more bus trip to navigate, but I am too tired now to care as much. By 9:40pm I am finally tucked up in bed. A few final questions persist. Why can't I be normal? Why can't I let it all go and actually have fun once in a while? What made me like this?
I try to relax my sore and tense muscles as I close my eyes. I am relieved that at least outwardly, today wasn't a complete distaster. I've had worse. But what about tomorrow? What if...??
Will it ever get easier?
" The streams of questions in my mind never really have an answer "
What helped me push through?
By this point I had started to open up a little more. My struggles were slowly becoming too big to hide behind fake smiles and ingenuine bravado. So I had some level of support from the school counsellor, but again it was teachers and older friends such as my manager at work that became the foundation of my in person support. Telling just a few people around me did make a difference although I was now hiding everything I was going through from my family and aiming to spend as little time as possible at home.
It was at this point that Headspace came into my life for the first time. Their anonymous online counselling became a lifeline for me. I was able to log onto the computer in the safety of my room, and without any worry of being judged tell the psychologist on the other side of the chat what I was going through. I was reassured that I wasn't alone, that things could get better, and that someone would always be there to support. I was encouraged to reach out to family and let people in more, but at this point I didn't feel able. Headspace was the largest factor in getting me through 2011, and I am forever thankful.
Today we do 177 push ups in the Push Up Challenge. That number is to signify the 17.7 billion visits to GPs related to mental health in 2018. Mental health costs Australians an estimated 60 billion each year, and Headspace offers free or low cost services to those that need it most but wouldn't be able to access it any other way. To donate please go to https://www.thepushupchallenge.com.au/team/the-power-to-push-on and visit https://headspace.org.au/ for more info.
Still We Rise.