“Ouch I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found
Yeah I think that I might break
Lost myself again and I feel unsafe.
Be my friend, hold me
Wrap me up, enfold me
I am small and needy
Warm me up and breathe me.”
It was half an hour before my scheduled video call. I was a little nervous about meeting some new people but I felt okay.
I had this.
I watched the clock, the minute hand slowly moving towards the time I had to jump online. When it came to the ten-minute mark, my heart started to race, my hands shook, my stomach felt queasy. I told myself off. I told myself to calm down. I practiced my breathing. I shoved my hands under my legs to stop the jitters.
It just made things worse.
Breathing in deeply then expelling the air out loudly, I logged into the call. I smiled at their friendly faces and listened to their hellos. All I could manage was an enthusiastic wave. Could they tell I was petrified? The host began the meeting by asking everyone to share something about themselves.
Shit!
I went blank. Actually, it was more like blacking out without actually fainting. My hands shook so badly they made my whole body vibrate. I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see clearly. My mouth was dry. My brain ached. I couldn’t breathe. I fumbled for the mouse and turned the video and audio channels off. It didn’t help. I clenched my fists so tight the whites of my knuckles looked neon. I ended the call.
I’d had an anxiety attack.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been an anxious person. It’s like a dark cloud following me wherever I go, threatening to explode and drench me. Sometimes it doesn’t happen. I’ve been to job interviews where I’ve felt in control and confident, my anxiety cloud at bay. But when it does happen, and lately it’s more than not, it’s terrifying. I’ve abused alcohol, cigarettes, recreational drugs, and even sex to hide it, but it always comes back, and usually, it’s worse than before.
When the COVID-19 pandemic hit, I thought it would be heaven. As an introvert, all of my isolation dreams would come true. Right?
Wrong!
It was the worst thing for me. As an introvert, my natural disposition is to hideaway. If I am going to be around people, it’s those in my inner circle. You know, family and the closest of friends. But isolation fed my anxiety, and my anxiety fed my isolation. It got so bad that I wouldn’t, no, couldn’t go outside, even to do the grocery shopping. I’d plead with my wife to go for me, even though I had more time on my hands because, during this shitty pandemic, my hours at work got cut in half. So I had a whole bunch of time with fear and anxiety preventing me from doing anything with it. I was angry, an anger like I have never experienced. It wasn’t at anything in particular but just a dark, seething, cotton wool, suffocating sense of anger, and it drove my every decision, my every word.
It was exhausting.
And it was hard on my family. They’d go about their usual business while I seethed and raged, avoiding me just in case the mean Aisha came out. It broke my heart to see this. Because I could see it. After one of my rages had finished, I’d look back on what happened and I’d feel sad, and I’d spend the night ruminating on it. I couldn’t sleep. How could I, when I inflicted such torment on my family, and for no reason at all? But the thing is, I couldn’t stop it. I wanted to. I really did. I could sense my heart racing, my hands shaking, my brain aching and I’d say to myself, Aisha calm down. Go for a walk. But in the next split second all the reasoning in the world flew out the window and BANG! I was in it, on it, all over them like you wouldn’t believe. It was heartbreaking.
I had to do something.
So I called my GP, filled out a form to find out if I was eligible for a mental health plan, and waited. My Doctor was shocked at my results. My depression levels were high but my anxiety levels were through the roof. We discussed treatment. I told her that I had made an appointment with my psychologist but the waitlist was so long that it would be months before I could see her. My GP was worried. I was worried. I couldn’t get any lower.
So I agreed to go on anti-depressants.
Anti-depressants are helpful and plenty of people are on them but I couldn’t get my head around it at first. I knew I had a problem. I knew I needed help but I had always told myself that I could handle it. I could handle my anxiety as I had always done so.
But I was wrong.
I needed more help now than I had ever needed before. So I started on a low dosage. Half a tablet until the side effects were gone. They never left. I felt numb all of the time. Disconnected. I had head tremors that lasted for hours. I couldn’t use my phone because it made me feel sick. I couldn’t listen to music, or read, or write. It broke my heart. Everything that I loved doing, everything that used to make me feel good, now made me feel horrible. So we changed my meds.
How do I feel now?
That’s a tough question and when people ask me this, I often stumble over my words. It’s hard to conceptualise feelings but I’ll try. I feel more at ease. The dark, negative, pointing your finger at me voice that has always lived in my head, is quieter. It hasn’t gone but it doesn’t rule over me like it used to. Now when I say something silly to people I’ve just met, or when I behave in a way that’s not ideal, I hear the same voice but I move past it. It’s okay to be nervous. It’s okay to say the wrong thing or look silly. It’s okay to be who you truly are. I acknowledge these feelings and I move on. The rumination that ruled my life is fading, and I thank the combination of personal growth, psychology, and anti-depressants for this.
My empathy is coming back too and that makes me happy. I’m a better person, a better mother, a better wife, and a better friend. Music helps, as does writing. There’s nothing better than pouring your heart out in a song or a story.
Mental health is an important subject that shouldn’t be kept in the dark. The more we share our own experiences, the more others can feel safe to share theirs. We are not alone.
If you or anyone you know needs help:
Lifeline – 13 11 14
Kids Helpline – 1800 551 800
Suicide Call Back Service – 1300 659 467
Beyond Blue – 1300 22 46 36
Headspace – 1800 650 890