An Open Letter

12 Mar

I have always been a 'worrier' and I was always a 'shy' kid. The worries and the shyness became something more when my GCSEs came around when I was around 15. Worries consumed my mind to the point where I would lay in bed and just cry. My mind became like a flipbook, once one worry was over my brain would just flick on over to the next, then the next one, then the next one, until I was overwhlemed and just so, so sad. I didn't think it would ever really end.

I remember thinking I was just absolutely mental. It became a running joke that I worried so much about stupid things, but deep down it really wasn't funny. I didn't feel normal.

Then one day, I did a google search of my symptoms. It all just clicked - anxiety, depression, social anxiety, OCD. Wow - other people feel like me, too! Other people have the exact same worries and feelings that I do! All of a sudden I didn't feel so alone.

Fast forward to one of my first seminars at university. The tutor asked me a question, and my mind became a blank canvas. I couldn't think of anything. I couldn't even remember by own name. I went dizzy and felt my stomach churn. I couldn't catch my breath. I tried to speak and I felt my face heat up like a boiling kettle, I could almost see myself blushing in the eyes of the rest of the class.

Everytime I went into my classes from then, every single conversation I had with anyone felt heavily overthought. It felt so constructed and false, that I got to the point where I didn't really know who I was anymore. Instead of me saying what I wanted to say, I would think 'what should I say next?', 'what do they want me to say?', 'what will make them like me?', 'what is the best response that will cause the least judgement?' I became my own worst critic.

I decided to seek help from the University counsellor. I remember her finding it so unusual that I was really self-aware of my own symptoms yet couldn't do much about it. She was great, and tried her best to help me, but I kept an awful lot of things to myself. I was going through a tough time outside of university and was in a tough situation that caused me extremely low self-esteem and contributed to my poor mental health. I was isolating myself from a lot of people.

Fast forward a couple of years, I graduated with my degree (although I was too anxious to go to my graduation ceremony so my wonderful family held me a graduation party at home within my comfort bubble). I started my first job outside of university, said goodbye to the things that were making my mental health worse and became close again to the best friend that I had isolated myself from for a while, the best friend that I really needed to get me through this. Things got a lot better really quickly, and a few months down the line I found myself faced with the choice to move to Australia.

I met my wonderful Australian boyfriend whilst he was living in the UK, and he was due to move back 6 months after we met. I could be myself around him. My true, genuine self. My anxious self, my depressed self, just myself. And he never judged me for anything. I started overthinking my decision. Was this a stupid thing to do? What if it didn't work out? Was it wreckless? Did I actually want to go or did I just think I did? What would I do if my anxiety got bad and I didn't have my close family and friends around me? How would I possibly make friends in another country? Will anyone understand my strong Yorkshire accent?

Stop. I said to myself. Just stop thinking yourself out of things for once. Just do it, what's the worst that can happen? Things go wrong and you jump on a plane home.

1.5 years later and I'm sat on the Gold Coast. Of course, about 6 months into living here I had a breakdown. But I stopped it in its tracks. Not this time, I thought. I saw a wonderful doctor who took the time to find me the right medication. After the two weeks of intial side effects, I felt normal again. I saw a psychologist and started reading self help books. I started to put myself into situations that scared me and I came out of them feeling a great rush.

I still have my down days, I still get my sick anxious feeling and the days where I just want to cry, but I am so lucky that as soon as I notice a symptom, I start reading my self help book, or I put my old strategies into place, I force myself out of the house when I really don't feel like it because I know I will feel better for it. It's hard when you condition yourself to critiscise your own actions, when you remember the down putting comments of a bully, the comment that made you feel humiliated. But taking that power back for yourself and working past that is the best feeling in the world.

With this little story of me, and with the letters I send, I really really want to encourage people to ask for help. It does not mean that you're weak. Even if it's buying a self help book, speaking to a close friend (all of the people I thought would judge me, haven't.) Visit a GP. Keep visiting GPs until you find one that really understands your condition. Keep changing psychologists until you find one that really gets through to you. Go for a walk, breathe in the fresh air. Dip your feet in the sea water, do what makes you feel alive! Write down how you feel, buy a pet (I couldn't live without my two guinea pigs to cuddle when I'm sad). Give your mum a hug. Call Lifeline. Have a cry, then make yourself a cup of tea. Watch your favourite TV show. Buy yourself flowers. Be kind to yourself. Light a lovely smelling candle.

Whatever you do, please don't give up. You WILL get through this. If not today, tomorrow. If not tomorrow, one day. Everything will be just fine. You are not alone. You can learn how to cope and you can live with that big black dog that's in your mind. You can make it smaller and smaller and smaller, and show it who is boss. You've got this.

Abbie