Tag Archives: help

My 5 Truths.

So, I have written a little about how anxiety graced my life with its presence, and a little about treatments I’ve tried, but I feel that maybe I haven’t really got much off my chest. The whole point of this blog being anonymous is so I can tell the world my worries, and not be judged for it, well, not by people I know at least 😉 so here are 5 truths, about me and how I feel today.

1. I am more scared than I ever thought possible. I have suffered with depression since I was around 14-15 years old, so my sky has been a little cloudy for around 8 years now, and then the hurricane that is anxiety came along and wrecked my world when the clouds were just starting to disperse. I am scared that anxiety is always going to be a part of me now, I feel like even if I do get better, it’s always going to be at the back of my head, waiting to present itself again, so I will never be able to live the life that I want. I think most of all I am scared that the people I know and love will give up on me. At the moment, I don’t exactly have much to offer. But hey, I can go to supermarkets now, so if you wanna go food shopping, I’m your girl 😉

2. I made an anonymous blog because I am embarrassed of the person I have become. I don’t really want my friends and family knowing that I nearly shit my pants every time I leave the comfort of my own home. All in all I think around a maximum of 10-15 people know about my anxiety. And even they don’t know the extent of it. The rest would just think I’m ‘Going through a phase.’ I’M NOT 5 YEARS OLD.

3. I buy too many pairs of shoes. Which is quite ironic really considering I don’t actually go anywhere to wear them. But they look pretty, and they make me feel better. Vans and converse incase you were wondering. Not high heels. If I have a day where I can’t see a light at the end of the tunnel, I buy a new pair of shoes. I should probably stop that. Maybe.

4. Recently I’ve been going through a major ‘THERE’S TOO MUCH STUFF IN OUR HOUSE, WE NEED TO THROW IT ALL AWAY’ phase, but no matter how much I get rid of, or how much I tidy it up, it doesn’t feel enough. I feel like I want to throw nearly everything away and start again from scratch, and only keep things that have a place where they can actually ago. Nicely and organised so the house doesn’t look cluttered. I think this is just because I can’t get my own issues in order, I am taking it out on our possessions instead. Or maybe I’m just over thinking it and we have too much junk. Why couldn’t I go through a phase like this that involved something productive like taking up running?! Damn anxiety, stop fucking with me.

5. There is not one thing that I like/love/enjoy about myself. I’ve been asked the ‘What is your favourite thing about yourself, COME ON there must be one thing?!’ Question a million times, and I normally just end up lying and saying something like my fingers to get people to quit hassling me. But honestly, there is not one thing that I can thing of that I think is pretty damn cool. Fingers will have to do for now. This was meant to be ‘My 10 Truths’ But I got to number 5 and felt like I’d been open enough for one night.

I would love to hear your 5 Truths, happy or sad or somewhere in between. Even 1 would be cool.



Anxiety Treatments, my experience so far.

When my anxiety was at its worst, I was having panic attacks daily, and as I couldn’t go to any support groups/therapists due to it, I decided to look up some therapies online.

The first thing I tried was Cognitive Behavioural Therapy books. I had read amazing reviews online about how they had changed people’s lives and their big black clouds had dispersed and all they could see now were butterflies and rainbows and all that super neat happy stuff. Yeah so, that didn’t happen for me. The books are often huge, and extremely repetitive.  Maybe these books do work for some people, and I am really glad for those that had good experiences and managed to change their lives, but mine however was somewhat unaffected, I was just left a little bit disappointed because I thought it would be some miracle cure, and that once I’d read the books I would be leaping out my front door begging for adventure.

The next thing I tried was anxiety websites that claim to fill you with so much anxiety related knowledge that your brain will suddenly understand the reasons why this is happening to you, and then you will be on the road to recovery. Again, no. Ok ok so it was useful to know some of the stuff about how anxiety presents itself, why it does, how many people are suffering etc, but again, this isn’t a cure, it’s just knowledge. And they usually want you to buy something.

The final thing I tried was hypnotherapy. I was super apprehensive about this one. The only hypnotherapy I had seen was programs on TV where people were completely unable to control their own mind/body and made fools of themselves. My hypnotherapist was a really nice guy, we made an agreement that he would come to my home to provide sessions, and as expected the first sessions was SUPER AWKWARD because a strange man was in my house claiming he could cure me of anxiety by tuning into my subconscious mind. I of course got so nervous about meeting him that I was confined to the bathroom for the first twenty minutes after his arrival (Too much info? Hey I did warn you of my problem in my last post). When I originally requested he carried out sessions at my house, he didn’t seem too convinced that I wouldn’t be able to go to his workplace and detailed to me how many toilets were in the building etc, so at least this disastrous first session justified my reasons.

Firstly he took some details about me, age, diet, siblings, periods (Say what?!) and asked about my childhood/parents etc and I explained the issues I was experiencing with anxiety.

After we’d gone through my life history, I laid down on the sofa to start treatment. At first I was easily distracted, when you’re laying in silence you seem to be able to hear every single noise possible, noises that you don’t even know exist, but I continued to lay with my eyes shut and listen to him speaking. Then BAM, I was under. I mean, I was completely aware of my surroundings, I could hear my neighbours child running up and down their front room (Paper thin walls!) but I just didn’t care. It is the most relaxed feeling imaginable. You know the moment in between being awake and being asleep, where you aren’t really sure whether you’re still awake or not, it feels like that. It was lovely.

The first few sessions focused on different things, some were focused on my childhood and experiences that I may have held on to that made me the person I am today, and some were focused on more recent experiences where I’d had panic attacks. The aim of it was to remember how I felt in the moments leading up to a panic attack, and get rid of those negative feelings that I associated with those memories. It is easier than it sounds.

Every week I would set a new target for something I wanted to achieve before my next session, so we could then go through the feelings I had leading up to the event, the event itself, and the feelings after. At first this was pretty simple, I started with small steps to places close to home so I could still dash out the exit if need be. Every time I managed to successfully complete one of my mini missions, I felt an incredible sense of achievement and it was a really warming feeling. But of course, I couldn’t make small steps every week, other wise I would never get my life back on track.

After a fair few sessions, I made plans to take larger steps, but it was harder than I expected. After a session I would feel super positive and ready to take on the world for the next couple of days, and I think I kind of took that feeling and ran with it, so I was then scared to make bigger steps because I didn’t want to feel the anxiety part. I did make a massive amount of progress, and it was definitely what I needed. Ok, so it didn’t completely cure me, but it opened up a massive amount of my life again. Before the sessions I was waking up with anxiety on my mind, spending all day with butterflies in my stomach thinking about it, doing a fair bit of crying and then going to bed dreading starting the next daily cycle of anxiety. Now, I sometimes don’t even think about it more than once a day and I can do a lot more stuff now than I could a few months ago. Because now I kind of know how to deal with the anxiety a little bit more. I know that I have not failed in any of the tasks I have tried to do, and I have gained some knowledge on how to kind of postpone a panic attack before it starts, and just deal with the moment rather than automatically think about the worst case scenario. Don’t get me wrong I still have a long way to go, and as soon as someone mentions the possibility of me going somewhere out of my comfort zone I have a mini meltdown, but my progression following treatment has shown me that there is hope, and that anxiety is just a small part of my life, as opposed to my life revolving around it.

I stopped my hypnotherapy sessions after having them for about 3 months, one reason for this was because although I did feel I had seen improvement, it kind of got to a point where I wasn’t making any more progress, and I had already spent a large amount of money on it. The other reason was because I got referred for Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, and I am not allowed to receive two treatments at the same time, because there won’t be clear evidence of how well the treatment is working. (I am still waiting for this)

So yeah, if you are considering hypnotherapy but are a little bit on the fence, I would give it a shot. Any questions, I will be happy to answer.

Look out for my next blog 🙂



A little bit anxious.

I’ve always been a little bit anxious, I remember laying in bed when I was a kid, staring at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling (You remember those right? They were AWESOME.) planning out where I would run and hide if WW3 broke out. The news used to be on every day at 6PM when I ate my dinner, and then I’d spend the rest of the evening worrying about what I had seen. Now that I’ve left home, I refuse to watch it, I will just talk loudly until I can find the remote to turn the channel over.

Social media sites are another thing that force news in your face. I have deactivated my accounts several times when videos start getting shared of animal abuse, child abuse, terrorism, violence etc. I am not naive, I understand there’s really bad stuff going on all around the world, but what does me knowing this achieve? I can’t save the world. I can’t stop people from dying or hurting, and I can’t teach people who I’ve never even met the difference between right and wrong. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t ignore that problems exist, I do donate to charities, but that’s all I can do. Sharing a horrific photo or video isn’t going to prevent any of these things from happening. It just makes me want to build a fort out of duvets and never leave the house again. I know some people won’t agree, but I don’t expect them to, I have my opinion and they have theirs.

Anyway, back to where it all started and why I started this blog. Like I mentioned, I think I’ve always been an anxious person. My friends have always joked about it. I worry about the smallest silliest things. I went to see a gig in London a couple of years ago, and you weren’t allowed to smoke in the arena, and once you were in, you couldn’t go out, so me and my best friend had a sneaky little cigarette in the ladies toilets. Even something small and slightly rebellious like this would push my mind into over drive and I would be thinking ‘Oh god what if we get caught, or what if we start a fire, what if we get kicked out and miss the gig, what if the police get called’ (I know, over dramatic) and my best friend is standing there saying ‘If we get caught, they’ll just tell us to put it out, stop worrying!’ For every one rational thought that she had, I had ten irrational ones. That’s always been me. In every single situation I have ever been in. As I’ve got older it’s got a lot worse. I’m not really one of those people who can live life on the edge, and I worry about the people who do.

Regardless of that though, I managed to get through life with a certain amount of enjoyment and kept the worrying under control until around 18-24 months ago. I’ve been having issues with my stomach for around 5 years, I’ve seen several doctors and they’ve mostly been pretty unhelpful and unsympathetic, so I kind of just dealt with it. Then around 2 years ago I developed an irrational fear that whilst I was out in public, I would need to use the loo (The embarrassing type). I know it sounds super silly but to my brain it is some horrible monster fear that is completely and utterly out of control. At first I would just stay in the odd weekend, and then me and my boyfriend moved house and I was closer to work so that then lead to me cutting more and more activities out until home and work became my safe places. Anything outside of that was a whole different ball game.

For the first year of my anxiety, it was manageable to a certain extent, I could do most normal day-to-day things like food shopping, doctors visits, family gatherings etc. The first thing to go was long car journeys. Then shopping centres. Then supermarkets. Then any shops in general. Then any type of car journey. Then anywhere at all except for work. I started having major panic attacks around 8 or 9 months ago, just thinking of going out would make me panic and in turn I would get a bad stomach which was the one thing that I was scared of. Any time I did try to venture out of the house, I would arrive at my destination, have a panic attack in the car park and have to leave promptly, like my life depended on it. So it became easier to not try, then there were no disappointments.

I didn’t really acknowledge I had a problem until it got to its worst. I managed to keep it from my family and friends for the most part. My boyfriend was obviously aware, but like me, he didn’t realise it was happening until I couldn’t do anything about it. When I started getting panic attacks at work that was rock bottom for me. Anxiety had already taken over nearly every aspect of my life, and I couldn’t sit and watch while it took the last normal thing that I had. I managed to get to the doctors, and sit through a panic attack which was horrible, because I was so used to dashing towards the exit as soon as I got the warning signs. It turns out that my doctors are really not very competent when it comes to mental health issues. After a few visits they gave me a couple of numbers to ring for support, but they were more interested in filling me with antidepressants rather than actually helping me resolve my problems. I couldn’t go to any of the support groups they offered, because they couldn’t seem to grasp the fact I couldn’t go out, so I turned to the internet for help.

I think I will leave this here for now. This is my first blog post and it’s ended up being longer than I anticipated. Maybe no one will even read this! My next blog post will be about my experience with trying out some therapies that I found online, so if you are suffering or have suffered from a similar experience to me, look out for it, maybe I could help in some way, or maybe I could at least remind you that you are not alone, even if it really feels like it.

I hope my story hasn’t been too boring, there will some laughs later on, I promise!


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