Sunday 20 October 2024

A full circle moment

Last night, I sat in The Great Hall of the University of Newcastle watching an interview with Australian writer, Tim Winton, when I was catapulted to just under 30 years ago – a time when I sat in The Great Hall for the first time. It was my first day of uni and I was there to become a journalist. It was also the first time I had experienced a panic attack.

Mental health disorders were not a ‘thing’ in 1995. Clearly they existed, but no one talked about them, or really understood them.

I had been heading down, what I now realise, was a really rocky slope since mid-1994 when the pressure of the impending HSC, my perfectionism, and the lack of my perceived post-school options collided in an almighty shitstorm. I spent months studying until midnight, waking up at 4-5am with chest pains and a vomit or two before heading to the loungeroom to manage the angst with hot tea and re-runs of Neighbours. There were no special considerations. No one at the school knew. The day my HSC finished was the day my chest pains and vomiting stopped. Now that I could eat again, I celebrated with a bottle of Coke, and some Jatz with French onion dip. Little did I know that the end of this chapter would be just the beginning of a lifelong skirmish with fluctuating mental health ‘issues.’

Things got a little dark when I moved from my tiny country town of 3,500 residents to a city with around 300,000. I gave zero fucks about being accepted into uni even though it was all I had aimed for after slogging it out to achieve a magic number. I was flatlining, which by today’s standards would’ve been diagnosed as depression. Then there was the panic attack on day one that snowballed to 3 years of panic attacks.

My first panic attack was like nothing I had felt before. I had to get the hell out of that Great Hall, immediately, and take refuge in the bathroom. With lightheadedness, thumping chest, and gulping breaths, it was the epitome of fight or flight. I’d dived off a cliff and it was on like Donkey Kong. I was now in a long-term battle with myself.

My parents tried to help by sending me to a psychiatrist and a hypnotherapist, but it was a different time. The medications were hard core and there was no language around what I was experiencing. I didn’t tell the uni – I didn’t even know if it was an option. I couldn’t let my friends know – the shame would’ve killed me. Instead, I decided I would manage it myself – no medication, no therapy, no telling anyone. I developed workarounds and stealthy avoidance tactics. I had some healthy coping mechanisms such as digging my fingernails into my skin if I felt the panic rising in order to shift the focus from my thoughts. I kept showing up to classes (mostly!) and held down a number of jobs. I was a high functioning lunatic. Was I thriving though? Absolutely not! I was languishing and just scraping through.

God knows how I finished my degree as there was so much effort going in to appearing ‘normal’. But I finished it, graduated, and created more and more coping mechanisms (not always ideal) that allowed me to live a pretty good life. But the way my brain is wired means that the ‘crazy’ would keep rearing its head at the most inopportune fucking moments. It was becoming inconvenient, irritating, and exhausting. I’m sure it affected (and still might) every part of my life – from my career choices to my relationships, my parenting, and my motivation (or lack thereof).

As the years went on, I spent quite a bit of time ‘in therapy’ but it wasn’t until I said enough was enough at the age of 35 that I finally gave medication another go, and what an epiphany that was! With anxiety taking more of a back seat, I began to flourish, and even when shit went down – and it did go down (as it does for everyone) – I could keep my head above water.

Is it a perfect solution? Not at all! I’ve had to accept that my anxiously wired brain will always throw some curveballs. There’ll always be a niggling little voice inside that second guesses something I’ve said in a conversation or worries that I’ve overplayed a strength. There will always be an underlying fear that I’m simply not ‘good enough’. There will be times when people may need to talk me down from the ledge if I think I’ve upset someone. There will be a tendency for me to default to the ‘safer option’ (particularly career-wise), and I’ll still need to take the odd Gastro Stop tablet before I board a plane. But, time, age, experience, medication, and a sense of humour have been great healers. They have helped me to embrace my unique brand of ‘crazy’.

I can’t go back and be kinder to 17-year-old me, but I can now sit in The Great Hall, albeit still not a professional writer and still looking for escape routes.

I can now sit in The Great Hall and stay.



Friday 15 April 2022

Things I never thought I'd do #315

There are many things I never thought I'd do in this life:

  • Lining up with the elderly and long-term unemployed to buy Take 5 and that's life! magazines.
  • Buying containers to place inside containers in order to 'declutter'. 
  • Pushing chunks of vomit through a plug hole.
  • Trimming matted hairs from my dog's anus.
  • Googling 'brush turkey mounds'. 

And apparently...taking a trip to an army disposal store while trying to appear 'normal'.

I'm not sure if it's just me (and it's a distinct possibility that it is just me), but this week I discovered that I cannot walk into an army disposal store without thinking that they're thinking that I'm a serial killer. 

This was not aided by my forced 'upbeat' demeanour as I entered the store.

Me: "I have a bit of a weird request".

Army Disposal Owner (ADO): "There's no such thing as a weird request in here".

Me: *scanning the locked cabinets full of weapons and catching a glimpse of a random, seated, bearded Old Mate straight out of Deliverance.*

Me: "I'm looking to buy a machete for my partner's birthday". (Followed by a lengthy over explanation about yard work, and living near the bush, and clearing paths and...Jesus - STOP!) 

My brain: *He thinks you look normal on the surface, but that you are actually one of those people who appears normal and then buys a machete and ends up on the news.*

ADO: "I can help you with that. What sort of machete are you looking for?" (Followed by the unlocking of cabinets and a lengthy over explanation about size, price, saw edges (*SAW EDGES!*)

At this point, ADO led me to another locked cabinet and started placing each machete in my hand so I could get a 'feel for them'. Meanwhile Deliverance Old Mate was still sitting on his stool watching.

My brain: *I am holding a machete. I am Jason Voorhees. He thinks I am Jason Voorhees. They probably sell hockey masks. Why are there SWAT team security caps in that cabinet? What else do they sell in here? Why is Deliverance Old Mate watching?*

ADO: "I have my best seller coming in in a couple of days. We've had a bit of a run on machetes lately."

Me: "You've had a run on machetes?"

ADO: "Yeah, it's all the wet weather. Things are overgrown."

My brain: *Of course they are.*

Me: "I'll just take this one - in the case, please...and if it doesn't do the job, I'll come back and get the other one" (*What am I even saying?*)

At this moment, I considered looking around the rest of the shop, but I turned and looked deep into the soul of Deliverance Old Mate and reconsidered. (*What is he even doing here?*)

I managed to get the machete safely to the house and was greeted by Miss C, "Mum, you do know that if there's a machete murder, you'll be a suspect.

I rang my mother.

Mum: "Your finger prints are all over those machetes. I would've wiped them down."

My brain: *Jesus, that's next level.*

George was suitably impressed with his new machete, and no one has been injured thus far. 

I have also added another thing to my list of things I never thought I'd do and that is utter the words, "Please remove your machete from the floor."



 



Saturday 4 February 2012

Some advice for my daughter

·         Despite the occasional crucifixion from peers, there’s nothing wrong with being the ‘good girl’. Good girls might finish last initially, but eventually they win.
·         However, don’t be so good that you never have fun. Revel in life! Push a few boundaries, take some calculated risks and try not to fear failure. You might discover something (or someone) amazing!
·         Intelligence is not something to be ashamed of. Don’t dumb yourself down to gain approval from others, but try to use it wisely and humbly.
·         If you dress like trash, you will attract trash. Embrace your body and adopt your own style, but always leave something to the imagination.
·         Always remember you are beautiful. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel otherwise.
·         Be resilient in the face of adversity. I will always walk by your side but I won’t fight your battles.
·         Don’t begrudge anyone their success or money. If you want something, work hard and earn it! You will be eternally dissatisfied if everything is handed to you.
·         Be gracious. Manners are the most important lesson you will learn and they are the attribute people will remember.
·         Appreciate what you have. So many people have so much less. Try to give something back.
·         Try not to form preconceived notions about others. Everyone has a past.
·         Take responsibility for your actions and own your mistakes. It takes greater courage to admit fault and apologise than blame someone else.
·         Food is one of life’s greatest pleasures. Never make it your enemy!
·         Surround yourself with music. It will move you, inspire you, heal you and take you to places you could only dream of.
·         You will meet many people throughout your life, but will end up with about a handful of friends who you will trust enough to share your innermost thoughts, desires and fears.
·         There is no shame in seeking help. Suffering in silence will only hinder you.
·         Never be afraid to love deeply and passionately, but don’t be blind sighted! Ensure the person you love has common core values, treats you with respect and loves you with as much depth and passion.
·         Don’t underestimate the power of laughter. It will regenerate you.
·         One day your eyebrows are going to look like mine and despite the fact my mother told me mine were beautiful like Brooke Shields’ circa 1984 – they weren’t. They needed to be waxed. And so will yours…every few weeks for the rest of your life. Believe me, you won’t regret it!