Last time I blogged I had increased my medication. It was September, not long after my birthday and I was actually feeling optimistic about the prospect of getting better than I currently was.
I was nervous, to begin with, awaiting the same possible symptoms as before. Feeling more anxious, stomach aches and rumbling head pains did flow through however they didn’t last too long. A couple of weeks in and my feelings about everything calmed once again. Although this time I was feeling a tad more confident that I was a few weeks before. I wrote this short blog piece mid-October and never got around to completing it for publishing. Read more
With full support from my doctor, of course. In fact, it was a recommendation that was said to me a few seconds before I was about to suggest it. Things were going good, great at times but something was lacking. Something was stopping me from beating through the last hurdle e.g. longer car journeys, especially motorways.
At the Start.
When I first started taking the drug Sertraline it was 2016 and I was nervous. My dad was receiving treatment for a terminal illness whilst my best friend had suddenly passed away. I had been battling on with anxiety for a number of years until I finally bucked up the courage to tell my doctor how I really was feeling.
Today is my birthday. It’s usually something people meet with either happiness or dread, depending on what end of the spectrum you are on age wise. I’m in my twenty-ninth year as of September 2nd, which makes me a freshly made overthinking twenty-eight year old. My anxiety all began when I was a child but my first ‘proper’ panic attack began on my twenty-first birthday.
The stresses of not completing all the tasks I had wanted to by that age all came down on top of me. There was no university graduation, no long-term job, no apartment, no savings and no partner (although this wasn’t on my list of things to have it would have been nice to think I had settled down).
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.