The previous day, I had travelled all the way down from Stafford to Falmouth, Cornwall, on the train. From memory, I think there were four changes and it took over seven hours. My mission was to visit the Falmouth campus of Exeter University, where I was interested in undertaking a Masters degree. I had been in my employment for two and a half years at this point and felt a change was required.
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| Falmouth - a beautiful place but bad memories |
Even though I had some problems with anxiety, especially eating out at that time, I felt that it was a change that could help me in the long-term, by throwing me out of my comfort bubble and into a more risky, but ultimately potentially more rewarding and social situation.
I had a meeting with the lecturer, had something to eat at KFC, a walk round the town and slept overnight in a B&B, all with relative success. I was on edge, but then who wouldn't be; this was potentially my future that was at stake.
So the time came to head back. I ended up catching a train an hour earlier than originally planned just because I'd finished doing everything I'd needed to do, and wanted to begin the slog back.
It was within five minutes of being on that train journey that all hell broke loose. I had my severest ever panic attack, that directly last about 14 hours in total. Indirectly, the knock-on effect of this was six months of almost being unable to leave the house, finding it difficult to do anything, utter despair... and ultimately around fifty sessions of CBT therapy to get myself into a position of stability.
30 March 2014:
As you'll notice, we're over three years since that incident. It feels longer than that, partly because so much has changed in that time. Significant, influential people have come and gone from my life, I moved house - twice - and I've now changed jobs. But the main thing that makes it feel like a lifetime ago is how much my anxiety has improved. Back in 2011, I never thought I'd be able to get out of it. Fourteen years of chronic anxiety had come to a peak of no return.
But actually, although this event put me through 14 hours of utter hell and six months of pain and distress thereafter, it was probably the best thing that could have happened. Without this incident, I may never have sought the therapy I received, which not only tackled this incident in isolation, but also my longer-term chronic anxiety condition. I wouldn't have even thought about moving house or changing jobs then, let alone actually doing them.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again... I will always have anxiety. It's a chronic condition that has been with me long enough never to remember not having it, but I am now generally able to manage it a lot better and have been able to move forward in my life. Beta blockers have helped, but 90+% of this success has been down to the talking therapy I received. My advocacy towards this in favour of medication, at least in the first instance, can never be overstated.
The most encouraging thing of all - 25 March 2014, last Tuesday, passed by without me even thinking about that event. The date will be firmly ingrained into my memory forever, but it's taken me five days since - i.e today - to think about it. That must mean progress.
I'd love to hear any stories from you with regards to the success - or otherwise - of talking therapy.
Best wishes
Al
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