My name is Jo Priest and I am an anxiety (and depression) sufferer.
This is how I feel I should introduce myself to new people at
times. Just get it all out there in case I act weird in any way whatsoever,
because that’s what I’m bound to do sooner or later. And that will explain my
weirdness, surely? And so the spiral of self-doubt goes and goes, until it
turns into a double helix of self-recrimination. This is usually, though not
always, accompanied by heaving sobs and plenty of snot which I need some
serious woman-sized tissues for.
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| The Doctor c. 1980, a true style icon |
Where did it all start? Not to put too fine a point on it, I
can’t remember much of a time when I wasn’t suffering the symptoms of anxiety.
I can vaguely remember being a gregarious, happy little kid. When mum took me
to playgroup, apparently there was no clinging on of skirts or tears for me.
Instead, I shot off and got stuck in. But then things changed. From about three
years old, I learned that my world was not safe.
My teachers and others outside the family thought I was shy
and quiet by nature when in fact, I was just very stressed and very sad for
quite a lot of the time. Sometimes my native personality took over and I would
be a happy, smiley and sometimes cheeky little thing. At other times, I would
be withdrawn and retreat into my own little fantasy world of drawings and books
and made-up stories and cuddly toys with fully formed personalities. And I
always had music – Top of the Pops was my absolute favourite. Well, Top of the
Pops and Doctor Who. I used to
pretend to be the Doctor circa Tom Baker replete with felt hat and scarf. Make
believe always formed a huge part of my play and I almost always pretended to
be men! Robin Cousins anyone? Showing my age here.
I had sleep problems throughout my childhood; insomnia and
nightmares were routine, including the kind of night terrors which would leave
grown men quaking and tearful. Nobody ever came to comfort me when I woke up
crying and distressed. I called, but no one came. I had a permanent knot in my
stomach. Little things terrified me. Actually, almost everything did. I’ve
since learned that this is because my brain got stuck into a hyper-aroused
state and, well, hasn’t come out of it much since then or at least, switches up
to a very high gear very easily.
My panic attacks didn’t start until early adulthood but I
was not diagnosed until much later once they were really bedded in. Instead I
was forced to undergo test after test for heart problems and multiple sclerosis
among other things. Believe me, that sort of thing does NOT make the anxiety go
away! Luckily, modern medicine has since caught on to the anxiety and depression
thing, but the first doctor I saw was a total prick and made me feel 100 times worse. He actually laughed at me when I suggested that it could be stress! Laughed. Well, I had the last (hollow) laugh because I was fucking right. Ha. Ha. Ha.
Some of my earliest memories are incredibly vivid and lodged
in a part of my brain that, as I’ve learned recently from reading an excellent
book called The Compassionate Mind Approach to Recovering from Trauma by Deborah Lee, doesn’t usually store memories, but instead in a part of the brain stimulated
by trauma. This is why traumatic memories stay with us for so much longer and
are often as real to us as if they happened yesterday. And I certainly have a
lot of traumatic memories to store. Let’s put it this way, I recently worked
out my ACE (Adverse Childhood Experience) score and it was (conservatively) a
score of 4 but could be anything up to 6 if I adjust the wording of the
criteria very slightly. Basically anything over 3 and you’re likely to have
problems as an adult. Anyone with a score like this is likely to have mental
health problems, likely to suffer from addiction, and replicate abusive
relationships in adulthood either as victim or abuser. It is also supposed to knock twenty years off your
life. Fun. And in case you were wondering, I scored a dizzying five out of 14 on the resilience score.
So yep, check, check and err…check. It’s been a hell of a
ride so far, and by that I mean that really terrifying ride that seems to go on
forever and makes you feel really really sick. Oblivion at Alton Towers maybe –
I kept my eyes screwed shut for that one and screamed until my vocal chords
bled. Nearly. It’s not like my life has been all bad. I’ve had some absolutely
wonderful times because I’ve made them happen. When I’m in a good space, I
would not bet against me to achieve pretty much anything I set my mind to. But
in the dark space, I can’t remember anything good. Or rather, the memory of the
good is far less real to me than the bad.
I am not willing to go into huge amounts of detail
about the WHY of the original causes of my anxiety because I’m not quite that brave yet. I wish I was but I'm working up to it. Baby steps. I'm already being super open about my mental health issues as it is. But I want to get to the point when I can share at least some of what happened. It's the silence that kills, after all. I've recently joined a community on social media of people who've had similar experiences and it's helping, though some of the stories... It's not easy reading, that's for sure. But when we turn away from each other when we are in pain, a little bit of our humanity dies. We have to look at the ugly parts if we are to find a path to beauty.
On a positive note, I will say
that I have recently felt an upturn in mood and significant decrease in
anxiety. Hooray! I am coming off of anti-depressants which is not an easy
process. Even though I have been taking a low dosage, with the main side effect
acting as a kind of sedative taken at night to help with insomnia, halving the
dosage overnight was probably not the best idea. I’ve since read that
antidepressants should be decreased by 10% of the original dosage and that it
can take some people months if not years to come off. I fail to see how you can
accurately chop up a tiny little pill into 10 parts, but hey. It seems I’ve
been doing it all wrong all these years (I’ve gone on and come off these SSRIs
for almost all my adult life including the ‘worse than heroin for withdrawal
seroxat’) and should have asked for a liquid form. But I haven’t been taking
direct medical advice, instead going it alone, as is the way I roll in pretty
much everything. But this cavalier attitude to my brain chemistry is very
likely the reason why I’ve had a bit of a rollercoaster few weeks in terms of
mood.
Big pat on my back here, but I have recently overcome a massive
fear and applied for an actual job. I rang up the last place I was employed, my
heart thumping in my chest, because I’d convinced myself that as I had
spiralled into a double helix while trying to do that job and a full time
tutoring schedule and was down to two hours sleep a night, that they all
disliked me and would not give me the reference. I was wrong – they will. It
was actually a really lovely conversation. Sometimes people surprise you in
good ways. This is a REALLY BIG DEAL, because in spite of a confident exterior,
I am almost always convinced that people will not want to employ me, or that
once I’m in a post, I am not very good at it. I have in the past had some not
so great experiences with workplace bullying, so I think I can be forgiven for
feeling a bit worried about it.
In fact, in terms of bullying experiences, I think I’ve
pretty much got the entire sticker set. I used to think this was because of
some defect in my character that made bad things happen to me, but I think it’s
a lot more complex than that. Firstly, I think that there are a lot of toxic
people out there. Secondly, I think I was bad at spotting the signs. Thirdly, I
put up with a lot more than I should have. Fourthly, there was some bad luck
involved. Fifthly, most people don’t think a female who is a little shy of five
foot three is going to put up much of a fight. For what it’s worth, most people
who have attempted to bully me sooner or later learn that it is a very bad
idea. But sadly, it’s usually done yet more damage to my nervous system in the
meantime. Fuckers.
So, what else am I
trying that I haven’t tried before? I’ve read that a magnesium deficiency can
also be responsible for anxiety symptoms and insomnia. A person suffering
prolonged bouts of anxiety and stress will basically experience all the vital
minerals leach out of their system anyway. On the advice of a friend who knows
about such things, I did some research and found a magnesium oil spray which
goes straight into the skin. Apparently the tingly, prickling sensation
experienced on application should last a few days but shows that there is a
deficiency. It’s been a week and a half and I have not lost the sensation,
though it does seem to be less intense than when I first used it. I’m hoping
this is a sign of its efficacy.
I am also keeping a track of my moods with a website called
Moodscope. I’ve long been curious about my moods and whether or not there is a
trigger or pattern that I can discern for an upturn in anxiety or downturn in
mood in general. It’s also good because it means I can remind myself to do it
daily and kind of check in with myself. For anyone who experiences difficulty
with their mental health, this is something you get pretty good at doing
anyway, but I find I slip into bad habits if I don’t keep an eye on it. Apparently
using the buddy system and knowing that there is someone out there who cares
about you, and learns how you’re doing, has a boosting psychological effect.
For the time being, I am being careful of the amount of
alcohol I’m consuming. Depressants aren’t the best idea for someone like me,
and probably not for the vast majority of people. It seems that a heck of a lot
of people in this country have a very unhealthy relationship with booze. I am
also trying to cut myself some slack and do things that will keep me calm and
grounded. Music is the biggest pleasure in my life. I listen to it as much as
possible and play and create. I go to gigs whenever I can because it does
things to my brain that no drug could ever achieve, and there’s no hangover or
come down to negotiate. Music is my drug and when I’m in real trouble, Howard Jones is my happy place. It’s not cool but it works for me. For the record, he is an awesome individual who lets people download sheet music scores of his songs for free though he suggests a donation to the Red Cross.
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| Howard Jones - Thrilled to know he is my 'happy place' |
I’ve no idea which specific things are causing my mood to improve and
my outlook to brighten as I’m throwing as much at it as I can. But I’ve a hunch
that it’s a winning combination of pretty much everything. Whatever, I’m not
looking a gift horse in the mouth. I also do the usual things…exercise, good
sleeping patterns, decent diet, a bit of mindfulness (when I remember), talking therapy etc.
And I am convinced now more than ever that my problem is and
always has been a nervous system that has been dysregulated so much that it
malfunctions all too often. I don’t believe I am naturally a depressive personality (is anyone?),
or melancholic by nature, which is why I put the depression into parenthesis at
the beginning of this blog. I believe that by nature I am an optimist. I am
also outgoing and creative and generally quite brave. I am working hard to rewire
my brain; to mould it into something that works for me instead of against me. I
am working hard to cultivate compassionate thinking as I believe this is the
key to everything. I am working hard every day of my life. So please, if you
see me behave ‘weirdly’ or act out in a way that is clearly a stress response,
please be kind as in that moment, I really can’t help it.
Incidentally, it’s probably best if we’re all kind to
everyone anyway. Imagine what could be solved if we were?
Last night, I saw a performance by a truly remarkable woman called Viv Gordon - 'I Am Joan' - at Circomedia. In this astonishing one woman performance, she was both open about the abuse she suffered, and the mental health issues she suffers as a result. It was deeply moving and inspiring.
Maybe one day I'll write that book.
