Tag Archives: panic disorder

Close To The Edge

The fist was positioned purposely in the small of my back.

I stood rigid, close to the edge, teeth clenched.

Hair that had yesterday been so neatly tied now hung around my face in disarray, unkempt and matted.

We’d been here for what felt like hours.

 My fingernails cut into the palm of my hands and cramp was deforming toes that were already curled in fear.

 The soles of my feet pushed down hard in a vain attempt to maintain some strength and ground.

 Sensations were being driven in spasms through my entire body, secondary in my fight to survive.

I tried to take a deep breath but it caught in my chest and refused to move.

Tightly shut, my eyes bled hot, wet trails of despair that scorched my skin. 

Immobilizing fear had gripped hold of me.

Shame and terror united in a pitiful embrace, as a warm trickle began to run from my nose.

 I dare not lift my hand to wipe it away.

I felt pathetic. 

The smirk behind me couldn’t be seen but I could feel it seep into the back of my head, into my mind and down into the pit of my stomach like poison.

Strength and dignity evaded me.

Time had lost course or relevance.

 I refused to open my eyes and judge the light, pleading silently that this would end now. 

In a split second of pure anger I wished for it to just fucking push me, or let me go.

And then, there it was.

The fist twisted.

 I opened my eyes wide in horror, feet scrabbling to regain lost ground.

I was so close to the edge all I could see were the waves crashing beneath me, lapping the cliff with cold, hungry tongues.

The screaming of the wind pounded my ears; the sound of his laughter taunted me. 

 Grabbing my collar in one harsh, swift motion it dragged me back upon to even ground just before I fell to my death.

It gripped me like the fear had and in a moment of pure relief I considered the irony of being pulled to safety by the same hands that intended to deal my fate.

I landed hard upon the ground in a pathetic, limp knot of limbs, the air forced from within me.

“Stand up”

I scrambled to my feet.

My knees were grazed and bleeding.  I could feel the warm trickle of blood from the wounds.

My body felt bruised but the tension in fear made me stiffen, like a corpse.

The smirk, again, I sensed without seeing

 “Stand closer to the edge Anna.  I want you to feel death approaching”

 The fist in my back nudged me forward ever closer to the roaring ocean hundreds of feet beneath me.

The only thing preventing me from toppling forward was the grip on my collar.

“Shall we play again?”

Its words surrounded me, echoing, carried and intensified by the elements.

 Closing my eyes tightly once more, I prayed for this game to end.

Exhaustion was creeping in.

My knees began to buckle.

“We’re not finished yet.  I’ve got hours to spend here with you”

Tears streamed down my face.

My body was numb. 

I just wanted it to end.

Please just let me go.

I felt the grip on my collar loosen.

The sound of the sea was fading and the fist in my back was gone.

I dare not move or turn around, but I could sense its retreat and my body didn’t know whether to crumple or prepare for another blow.

As I fell to the ground I heard its parting words and knew that this moment of strange peace would not last forever.

“I’ll be back.  You won’t forget my name”

                                                *********************************************

I awoke exhausted, malnourished and dehydrated. 

The terror lingered and travelled through my mind and my body.  The spasms of fear, still alive.

I was scared to move but knew that I must.

God only knows how long I had been asleep, but sleep is what my body had craved. 

I reached over to the table beside my bed and using all the strength I could muster I drank deeply from the glass of water.

It seemed to burn as it drove down my throat and into my stomach, gurgling, threatening to come back up.

 Trying to drive away memories from the night before, I raised myself up into a sitting position and ran fingers through my matt of hair.

I needed a shower.

The thought of putting my feet on the floor drove me back into the fear of never touching the ground again.

The cliff edge.

The hungry sea

The fist that threatened death before snatching it away, with a claw like grip.

The irony of being saved by that which threatens to take your life.

The fear ran icy cold through my veins, threatening to take me back.

The saliva stuck in my throat when I realised it would return unannounced as it had so many times before.

I am not the only victim.

If you’re like me, you’ll know it well.

It’s name?

 ‘PANIC’

You’re already winning.

Let us talk about your house.

Not the bricks and morter one, down the road, on the corner next to the traffic lights.

 The house that goes everywhere with you.

The house, inside your head.

You cannot move out of it and the upkeep can be tiresome and sometimes excruciating. 

Imagine each aspect of your house to be an element of you memories, your mind.

It is your mental health.

Some people are lucky enough to have orderly and happy houses with little upkeep.

If you read my previous blog then you’ll already be aware that my own house is, what can only be described as a contrast of heaven and hell.

As a sufferer of anxiety, PTSD and panic disorder maintaining control of my own mental structure is mostly exhausting.

Struggling with the restoration and upkeep of my own mind, I feel that finding an analogy which puts mental health into perspective is a key to not only trying to repair and restore, but also and very importantly, it helps others to acknowledge and empathise with the hurdles many of us face on a day to day basis.

I watch as mould forms and expands in the rooms above but often cannot find the strength or the energy to clean it, or call for help.

I wish I could find the motivation and resislience to go through the rooms and cupboards with a fine tooth comb, removing unwanted clutter, dusting the sides down and generally fixing the damage that has beeen done over a period of years.

The rooms upstairs are laden with bad memories, struggles, nightmares, panic… to name just a few.

In fact all the rooms have names and I spend too much time up there, which is what has driven me to write about this subject.

Plus, I know I am not alone in this.

When you suffer with mental health issues of any description, the clutter can get out of control and entire rooms (or floors, in my case!) can be become overwhelmed, dysfunctional, and painful to be in.

But, with damage comes repair, and reminding yourself of that over and over again, on a day to day basis is one of the first steps to managing your mind.

I want to focus on those of us (and there are MANY) who struggle with upkeep and plead internally for restoration.

Did you realize that every time you put a foot forward, you are winning.

The first foot that hits the floor as you climb out of bed in the morning is a win. 

When you’re contending with depression, anxiety, PTSD or any other form of mental health battle, Every. Step. Is. A. Win.

It has been a long and painful journey for me to register the wins and appreciate that trying, in itself, is achieving.

One of the hardest aspects of living with mental health issues is waking up in the morning and realizing, with dread and tears, that they haven’t gone away.

The feelings of inadequacy are still there.

The hollow pit of despair in your stomach still resides.

The desire to ‘get up and get going’ has abandoned you, as it did the day before.

Everything is one huge knot of confusion and pain.

Tasks that need to be done overwhelm you to the point where burying your head in the proverbial sand seems to be the best and only option.

My words of advice that follow, will not make these feelings go away.

If it was as simple as that then we’d all be racing around like happy, goofy things, getting shit done.

Despite the house in your head being a cruel and forgiving place to be, there are strategies I have found that can ease the weight, making the burden less heavy to carry.

Acknowledging every step I take and ticking boxes helps me to get though the bad days.

I quietly but firmly praise myself for putting both feet on the floor every morning.

I’ve stepped forward.

I’ve made way for another positive move, however insignificant it might seem to somebody else.

But someone else doesn’t matter at this point.

You matter.

A small but important task is to take a sip of water when I wake up.  I always have a glass or bottle of it by my bed and I find it awakens my senses.

Your senses are either dulled or massively heightened during periods of depression and anxiety and coaxing them into a normal state can be really beneficial.

That one sip of water can, believe it or not, help to balance things out.

It doesn’t work for everyone, but I find that it helps me.

If you try it and it works?  You’ve ticked a box before you’ve even considered getting out of bed.

Working your way through the day pretty much relies on ticking those boxes.

If it helps, you could physically write things down, so that by the end of the day you can physically SEE what you have achieved.

Did you brush your hair?

Did you brush your teeth?

Did you make a coffee?

These are ALL wins and I cannot reiterate that enough.

 In my day to day life I try to give myself a tick in the proverbial box for everything that I achieve.

Many days my mental health leaves me disillusioned and paralysed in fear. Getting dressed feels like standing at the bottom of a mountain with no provisions for the climb ahead.

Washing my hair feels like an impossible task.  Enough for me to break down in tears.

At times like this I attempt to remind myself how important it is that I THOUGHT about it.

Yes, even acknowledging the thought process is a success, and that could lead you to do it for real,  later in the day, or maybe tomorrow

Most people find it easier to make steps with a positive thought.

‘Ive thought about washing my hair, which means I want to do it and if I want to do it, I can’

 Say it out loud.

Try to remind yourself that each step is a move. It’s fluid. It’s leading you somewhere.

Remember, every move is a win.

Peace and Carrots, until next time.

XxX