Anxiety isn’t a walk in the park. It can be like the monster from under your childhood bed coming out to follow you around the streets. Invited he was not.
I was told I had anxiety at the age of twenty-one. This unfolded due to what I now understand was a severe panic attack on the day of my twenty-first. Medication and recommended CBT therapy was the prescription. It would fade. That it was not permanent. This gave me some hope, which can only be a good thing. I’d have thought.
Seven years down the line I’m bumping along rather calmly. I still take medication, plus a new additional medication which I started two years ago, and things are going OK. I’m no longer housebound, which is an improvement.
My anxiety started, I believe, when I was a young child. Feelings of being unable to breathe would follow me around. One evening I was sure I could feel my lungs getting smaller and smaller, my throat tightening, so we headed to A&E. A Doctor checked me over. I was sent home shortly afterwards. From sweaty palms, throat clearing, headaches, not sleeping enough, refusing to go to school, sleeping too much, staying up until the following morning and sleeping through the day… the recipe for it all to come crashing down a few years later practically wrote itself.