My battle with Anxiety and Depression
2020 has been a tough year for us all. With the pandemic hitting across the world, claiming thousands of lives and impacting all of us with National lockdowns. However for me, someone who lives with anxiety, this has not been the first lockdown of my life.
The year was 2014 and at age 15 I didn't even know anxiety or depression were even a thing although I had always been a shy kid growing up. However at this point in my life I was now experiencing a higher social status than I ever had with a new group of friends. I am incredibly ashamed to admit that this changed me. I always thought of myself as a friendly and likeable person through secondary school but with this change I became far more judgmental, harsh and even brutally abandoned one of my best friends at the time because this new friendship group, higher in the social hierarchy of secondary school rejected him but accepted me.
Perhaps then it was simply Karma that this came to a sudden end with a capitulation of my confidence through something that appeared completely random and bizarre. This began as a joke that I said over a girl that led to me going red. At first this was no big deal, a bit embarrassing but I understood why. However as the weeks went by I would go red for no reason when in my friendship group, people obviously picked up on this and at one point ended up having the ability of humiliating me by simply saying the phrase 'go red', to which no matter how hard I tried I would begin to blush. As a result I began to avoid my friend group, most of the time spending lunchtimes on the computers by myself. This also significantly impacted me academically as well as socially and led to me dreading classes that I normally would enjoy and do well in the fear I would go red. Eventually this culminated in me faking being ill, to try and avoid school. My attendance began to go down until finally I refused to go into school entirely. The thought terrified me to the point where I couldn't sleep and that I would actually be sick, not through a bug, but through fear of such a simple thing that I had done most of my life, going to school.
I could not understand what was happening to me, I blamed myself and cut myself off from my friends and my education. Luckily I was blessed with an amazing mother who understood what was going on having mental health problems in the past herself. In spite of this I did not and refused to believe that this was a real illness, 2 weeks after I first started missing school I was diagnosed by a doctor as having social anxiety disorder.
Despite the diagnosis, I still could not come to terms that this was something serious. The weeks of missing school turned into months as my anxiety spiraled into severe depression. I began self-harming and contemplating suicide, I have mainly blocked out most of my memories of that dark time but what I will never forget is the effect it was having on my family, the concern and pain it brought them.
One of the few darkest memories that does remain clear as day is at my Grandparents 50th wedding anniversary celebration. Pretty much the entirety of my Dad's family was there it was late summer and meant to be a happy day as we sat round the table to celebrate 50 years of my Grandparents being married. However I was in such a dark place I basically ignored everybody, I felt so alone despite being in a room full of family that loved me no matter what that I began to put my hand in the flame of the candles. It didn't hurt that much at first, I'm not sure who noticed and I didn't care at this point. This was not a call for attention, I wanted to feel pain at this point, I deserved it, there was something so wrong with me that I couldn't even go to school, step outside my house, speak to any of my friends. The things that I used to enjoy, football I couldn't do, the I couldn't get any enjoyment in my life, and what is the point of living if you can't enjoy anything?. Eventually my Mum took me outside and I picked up as many sticks as I could scraping them against my skin frantically trying to draw blood. I was so zoned out that it wasn't until my Dad came out trying to get me to stop explaining I was in view of the entire table. I was in such a frenzy and away in my own little world that I had no idea I was in view and ruining my Grandparents 50th wedding anniversary. The horrific thing about the illness is that it doesn't just effect the person suffering but the entire family, I can't imagine how tough it must of been for the family during that year and I can not express my gratitude for their continued support for an illness which is so difficult to understand.
My situation began to slightly improve after the summer holidays as I finally told one of my closest friends who I had known since I was a baby about my situation. Surprisingly to me, he understood and began to visit me giving me vital social interaction and a confidence boost. My mood began to lift and thoughts of suicide faded, and thoughts and the act of self harming became far less frequent. A big shock came in October, at the time I thought it would be a massive setback but actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise. One of my friends who had been told by my close friend about my depression let slip about my illness. This whole time the official line about me missing school had been 'Glandular Fever' and soon everyone knew the truth. Partly as a result of my own ignorance to the illness I was suffering with I thought this was the end of my life, my anxiety raced expecting tirades of mocking and abuse with the only escape being suicide. However in an amazing act of kindness some girls in my year got all my friends, who I hadn't talked to since I missed those first few days of school signed a get well soon card. I also got many messages of support and this gave me the confidence to go back on Facebook and gave me a huge lift and hope that I wasn't on my own and allowed me to finally accept that I was ill and that this wasn't my fault.
Although my anxiety was still incredibly bad, my mood lifted there was finally hope that perhaps I could go back to school. Despite this boost in mood, little changed in my anxiety. I still struggled to walk out the house with the closest I could get to the school being the fire station without having a panic attack and having to turn back. I finally had hope of beating this illness but I still couldn't get over that anxiety and with GCSE's approaching I needed something to push me over the line.
Once again that push would come in an initial setback in February 2015 during discussions with my therapist about going back to school. I was told that there was no chance with my level of progress I would be able to do my exams and that the school would only allow me back in for next year if I retook the year. I was desperate however to rejoin school in the same year as my friends as it would be far worse for my anxiety to join a year where I knew practically no one. As a result me and my mum made contact with the school to try and organize exams from home so there would be a chance that I could rejoin for sixth form and still have a future. Although initially denied, a letter I wrote explaining the importance of rejoining my current year combined with my mum fighting for my chance to rejoin explaining that a rejection would undo all the progress I had made from my dark place convinced the head of sixth form Mr Evans to let me in. This is something I am eternally grateful for as without his acceptance, I'm not sure if I would even be here today. The condition for the agreement was that I was able to walk into the school grounds a couple of days a week to prove that my anxiety could cope and attend meetings with the subject teachers.
Despite the challenge I was hell bent on securing what I believed was my only option to beat this illness and restore normality in my life. Despite panic attacks, chest pains, headaches, loss of breath and other symptoms being the most significant they had ever been I knew I had to get through it and fulfill my part of the deal. For if I didn't I truly believed my life would be over, and that I would inevitably slip back into the darkness of a few months prior from which I would not be able to emerge.
Eventually I managed to do 3 GCSE exams on top of some I had taken early in year 9 achieving a B in English language, B in History, D in English lit and D in chemistry and after 2 attempts a C in math's. Despite this good news, the first time I would see my friends from school would be a somber occasion. It would sadly be one of my classmates funeral but I felt it vital to go and support my friends and pay my respects.
After the funeral I began to see friends from school more as the summer ended and despite a shaky start to sixth form I was able to be myself and enjoy life again, seeing my friends, studying and seeing a future.
I now write this piece in 2020, 6 years from my first breakdown having achieved a 2:1 at university with a politics and IR degree. I still live with my anxiety, although I am far better able to cope and although I have suffered, as we all do in life with setbacks with the death of my amazing Nan in 2018, I have managed to make it to 22 with great friends and now with good qualifications behind me. It is still not easy living with anxiety, the physical symptoms are still incredibly frustrating and my mind still loves to over exaggerate every problem I encounter, but I have learnt to manage it a lot better.
Lockdown was a challenging time for everyone's mental health, perhaps the fact it was the second lockdown of my life made it slightly easier for me but it was still a challenge to be deprived of that vital social interaction for so long once again. As we emerge from lockdown it is essential to remember the importance of mental health and to speak about it. The U.K charity Mind's survey of peoples mental health under lockdown showed that 65% of participants with a pre-existing mental health problem said it had become worse during lockdown with 22% with no previous experience of mental health problems stating their mental health was 'very poor' under lockdown.
Despite the fact that every week 1 in 6 adults experience a mental health problem and 1 in 5 of us will consider taking our own life at some point, peoples experiences are not shared enough. It is understandable, despite huge progress in recognizing mental health problems from legendary footballers such as Thierry Henry to the Duke of Cambridge there is still a huge stigma about discussing mental health. This is especially prevalent in men as it can be perceived by ourselves or others as a sign of weakness which I viewed it as when I was first diagnosed. However now I believe that overcoming these challenges and sharing our experiences is actually a sign of strength and can help countless others who are going through or have experienced a similar battle.
Article written and edited by Robbie Luzi
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