Hello, Alphabet Diseases

Hello, alphabet diseases. 

That's what I call my small plethora of mental health conditions- GAD, BPD and ADHD. 

They are conditions that have taken the majority of my twenties and thrown them into a fiery pit. They seem to control every.single.aspect. of my life in some way or another. 

This blog is going to be an attempt at addressing my mental health (the alphabet diseases), along with some self-accountability and some self-love along the way.  

I have had some positives in my twenties- I qualified from university relatively intact, I bought my own little flat. I've been to some lovely places. I've met amazing people and made some life long friends. 

But I don't feel like I've properly lived yet. I feel like every new year, I go through the same routine: 

'New Year, New Me!!' 

I make plans. I want to go to the gym and get back into size 10 clothing. I want to grow my hair out long and stop dyeing it all the time. I want to manage my finances. I want to progress at work and find a job that I'm happy in. 

I want to manage my anxiety once and for all.

Suddenly- it's April and I have done absolutely fuck all.

The cycle then repeats. Again and again. 

I have tried every year since 2019 to get better.

Nothing has changed, except I've put on even more weight and my hair is fried to a crisp. Standard Lucia behaviour. 

This first post is going to be focused on the biggest pain in the backside there is:

Anxiety

Anxiety is the worst of my alphabet diseases. It has been with me as long as I can remember- I think I was seven years old when I first heard of it. My dad had taken me to the GP because I kept feeling sick, but just in my throat. The GP said 'she's got anxiety'- and that was it. No support, no follow up, nothing. Fair enough, I was young. There's probably not an awful lot a GP can do when a seven year old pitches up with symptoms of a condition that might not even develop into a problem. 

Except it did develop into a problem. It escalated, but I learnt to keep it inside, with the occasional outburst of tears. I began to have panic attacks in secondary school. The first time I had one, as many people do when they have a panic attack, I thought I was dying. The whole room felt like it was closing in on me and I kept thinking a trapdoor was going to open beneath my feet and I was going to fall into oblivion. I didn't, obviously, but the feeling was so real in that moment. 

Anxiety may seem like it's the least of my worries (ha!) but it is a dark horse. It's the mastermind behind everything. It takes my other mental health conditions and seemingly drives them from zero to one hundred in seconds. It escalates my emotions and my thoughts far higher than they need to go. 

The other part of my brain doesn't get a chance to think of a rational solution- my anxiety is already there, whispering in my ear that I'm going to die, that the people around me hate me, and that I'm going to be fired, usually in that order. Looking back- this doesn't make sense. 

How could I be fired if I died first? 

I just will.

That's the way it is. 

As a nurse, and a 3x CBT survivor, I understand that anxiety in small amounts is healthy. It helps to protect us as humans from danger and is an innate response- if faced with a threat, we may go into fight or flight mode. 

I've spoken a lot about this in therapy. My brain is constantly in fight or flight mode. It doesn't matter if I'm turning out of a junction, about to speak up on a big Teams call at work, or if I'm just at home playing a video game- I am constantly on edge, all the time, about everything. 

My head is loud. It's super, super loud. I once described it as being stuck on the London Underground at rush hour in the middle of summer- my (and probably a lot of peoples) idea of absolute and utter hell. 

I have tried several techniques to combat my anxiety.

Medication wise, I have been on the vast majority of SSRIs and SNRIs, but got so anxious of the side effects I had to stop them. I remember I took one dose of sertraline, didn't like the fact it made me feel numb, panicked that I wasn't feeling anything and them promptly threw the rest of the pack in the bin. I do take propranolol, which is helpful in managing the very physical symptoms of anxiety and is potentially the only medication I've ever been prescribed that actually touches the fucking sides.

I have been to therapy. I have tried lots of self-help books, planners, you name it. I have tried CBT and counselling, but when my anxiety brain does not want to engage it- it just won't. 

It's like I'm climbing up a very steep, very treacherous mountain. At the top is no anxiety. I have a climbing partner, which is anxiety. Anxiety cuts my climbing rope and I end up falling back down the side of the mountain. 

Another analogy I used in therapy is that it is like my brain will pull the emergency handbrake when there is no danger. In theory, I should get a fine. I don't though, and it continues to pull the handbrake in every kind of situation possible.

This attempt at recovery feels different. I've started to learn that my anxiety does not have a say over everything. What it says is not gospel.

I can learn to try and try again.

I can keep climbing up the mountain, and when my rope is cut, which at the moment it inevitably will, I can get up and get back up to where I was before, and maybe even higher. 

I will get there, it's going to take time, and patience, and probably a whole lot of spite. 

But I'll get there.