3: Anxiety@ The Holiday Home

What I didn't appreciate is that the title 'Anxiety@' isn't necessarily appropriate in all cases - Anxiety On would have been better to complement 'Anxiety On Holiday' rather than the loosely connected @ 'The Holiday Home,' whereas in fact the actual place I stay in isn't necessarily the problem.  You see, try and be clever and look what happens.

Barca - one of the better 'holiday' experiences

Anyway,

I have blogged numerous times on this website, which is nearing two and a half years old now, about how my chronic anxiety condition has affected many things in my life that most other people who have grown up with a similar background to me take for granted - and holidays are one of these.  There aren't too many people who I know who don't go on holiday at least once a year - they manage to find a way to do it even in times of austerity.  And of course, these days, you hear all about it due to the various social networking platforms that people can shout about it - or brag - on.  This doesn't help with the pressure and the horrible sinking feeling you have that you've missed out on some incredible trips around the world to swim with dolphins, experience the Big Apple or even have a jolly to Skegness.

Lesson 1: Try and ignore this element of the social media phenomenon.  If people keep posting things about their wonderful lives, hide future posts from them.

Holidays are supposed to be adventurous, relaxing, exciting and something to look forward to.  I will start by saying that I have managed to go on a holiday in each of the last three years, each time to Welsh Coast, with a very good friend of mine.  Although I'd love to explore some other countries, I doubt there would be many places that would beat this for scenery and serenity.  The Welsh coast is an incredible place to go and stay and is one of the few places I've come across that I can actually at least partially relax for a while.

Lesson 2: Don't feel that a holiday in the country that you live is not a holiday, or feel belittled by people who negatively compare such holidays to ones abroad.  

This achievement of going to Wales - and it is an achievement, as this blog (and others) will explain - is something I certainly don't take at all for granted, and I'm grateful for the rail link for existing that far out into the sticks and for my friend for joining me.  Without him, such trips would probably not happen.  But the fact remains that there are still plenty of places that I wish I could go, or could have gone to, but that I fear that the elation of visiting such a place would be sadly outweighed by the mental strain I would have to put myself through both before, during and potentially a long time afterwards.

I mean for goodness sake, my worst panic attack in history happened following a one night trip to somewhere in the same country, so what chance would I have going abroad somewhere for a week or more?

But why do holidays in particular cause me so much distress?

Well it all started in 1996 (I've blogged about the incident before).  In summary, I was on holiday with my parents (I was 8-9 years old at the time) when I experienced my first panic attack, that I remember at least.  This kind of set a precedent, and I remember vividly the year after going somewhere else and having more panic attacks. My parents were taken aback by this occurrence the first time let alone the second, but of course they still wanted to go on holiday.  So the following year, 1998, they brought my best friend along as well, which worked.  Believe it or not, every holiday I went on, usually once a year, occasionally twice, my best friend came with me - all the way up to 2005.  Obviously it was great that my best mate came with me and we always had a great laugh and generally a relaxing time.  Anxiety made some fleeting appearances, usually in the evenings after I'd gone to bed, but rarely caused me any persistent problems.  My friend was the distraction I needed.

Lesson 3: If you can bring a 'safe' friend with you on a family holiday, do so - anything to relieve the pressure.

It did mean, however, that the first time I went away without him would be a test - and this came in 2008.  Now, this wasn't a holiday, but a fieldtrip with my University course.  For the purposes of this blog it's the same thing, as it involves a trip away to uncertain climes and with no best friend in tow this time.  And not including Ireland and Guernsey, it was the first time I'd been abroad - Barcelona awaited.  Fortunately - and I mean that as I'm not sure if I can assign the reason for this to anything in particular - I was going through a reasonable spell at this particular juncture of my life.  Apart from the past year or two, Late 2007 to March 2011 was probably the best time for me anxiety-wise.  Sure things were difficult, but the panic had become a lot less and my main problem at this point was eating out.

Consequently, Barca was tolerable.  Eating was a problem, and I didn't eat much for the 6 days we were there, but the pressure was less because other people I was with didn't agree with the food either.  I think what also helped was the fact that we were kept so busy with work that this kept my mind off ruminations.  By this point, I'd also made a few decent friends, a couple of whom were within the 'safe' category, which obviously helped me get by.  Don't get me wrong, I was on edge most of the time and the odd social occasion we did get was spoilt by a lack of confidence that I didn't suffer from as badly when discussing work matters, but still, overall it could have been a lot worse.

A quick word on flying - I don't have a fear of flying.  However, I do have anxiety, so I have a fear of most things - flying being one of them.  It's just not the same reason most people 'fear' flying.  

Sadly, trips subsequent to Barcelona have been few and far between and those that I have been on haven't gone so well.  Take a short, three night trip to the Lake District in 2009, for example.  Ironically, this trip was made with my friend who I mentioned came with us all those times between 1998 and 2005.  The main problem on this particular trip was also primarily about eating; we were staying in a B&B, and the first morning we sat down to breakfast and I had to leave the table otherwise a panic attack would have occurred.  I can't stomach much at breakfast anyway and the woman serving was one of those who felt she had to comment on what people ordered etc. So needless to say what I did order I couldn't eat and the spiralling feeling of panic just got worse as breakfast time unfolded.  And despite this, I still tried to go down and eat on each of the subsequent two mornings, because that's what anxiety does - it makes you stubborn, and think you should be able to do something that everyone else takes for granted, despite the pain you are forced to go through.

Lesson 4: Try not to worry what other people will 'think' if you go against what is seen as 'normal' practice - e.g. going down for breakfast at a B&B.

This led to an anxious break full stop, thinking of the next time I would have to eat - or not.  I vividly remember being able to eat fine when we stopped for lunch - at a service station on the way back.  It was the relief of getting out of unfamiliar circumstances and out of a pressure scenario.  But this food thing, whatever type of anxiety it really is, has more of an effect than it sounds via the written word. 

Lesson 5: In parallel with lesson 4, don't feel forced into doing things that are uncomfortable, even if it goes against what is 'expected of you' on a holiday. 

And I think this is the problem.  There is pressure on a holiday to do specific things and to enjoy yourself all the time.  There is pressure to have large breakfasts, relax on a beach, eat posh food.  Some people can switch into 'holiday mode' quite easily; for people with anxiety a holiday can merely be a path towards a week of misery.  

For me, it all came to a head of course in March 2011.  I won't go into it again, but this had all the ingredients for a disaster, in hindsight.  Alone; longest train journey ever; B&B and food pressure; potentially making a decision that affected my long-term future... etc.  Even smaller things like being too hot given the unseasonable weather (it was 22 degrees in March) didn't help.  Again, this wasn't a holiday as such, but the same pressures came about.  As it is, I probably needed that incident to turn my life around, but I still had to go through well over a year of hell subsequently.  

Going to Wales, like I have in autumn 2012, 2013 and 2014, has been a success.  I've been with a 'safe' person, been self-catering and done things I want to do, like walking.  It's not been a total relaxation-fest, but nothing is for me, so to say I got through it would be seen as a success.  I'm shortly (next week) going on a pre-Christmas trip which involves staying in a B&B, so this will be a challenge - but one I need to embrace.  I need to ensure that I can do something as straightforward as stay in a catered for accommodation and survive.  I need to do things my way and not bow to pressure.  I'll be sure to report back how it goes.  

Best wishes
Al

2: Anxiety@ School

Probably the longest blog I've ever written - apologies in advance! Fourteen years is a lot to write about in one blog...

Entrance to my high school

I think the best way that I would sum up my general state whilst at school would be like living in a glass box that contained all sorts of horrible thoughts and painful anxieties.  Occasionally this box would open, allowing me to enjoy the social aspects of growing up that school could offer, but even then these intangible objects from the box would follow me around.  And then I'd get locked back inside the box again.  It's made of glass, because I could see everything going on around me,  but just couldn't enjoy it because of how restricted and encased I felt living with anxiety whilst at school.

I won't dwell too much on primary school as I started it 23 years ago.  Wow.  1991.  Wow.  Anyway, what I think sums it up is the first memory that I remember, not just at school but practically in life.  It was day one of primary school and I needed to ask the teacher a question, and needless to say I was shy and tentative.  And I remember a fellow pupil (who turned out to be a right t**t in high school, but that's another issue entirely) saying "you're very quiet aren't you?"  We were four years old.  And yet I remember that like it was only yesterday.  How much impact those sort of memories have on someone is psychology beyond my capability, but one could argue the signs were there even from that age.

I remember primary school lunchtimes for me were often alone, standing in a quiet corner of the playground not playing with anyone else.  My best friend was - and still is - a great friend, but someone who was quite happy playing with his other friends, which is perfectly acceptable quite frankly at that age.  I was the sort of pupil who'd rather have the attention of the teachers than my fellow pupils.

Where am I with bullying?  I can't say I was bullied in primary school particularly badly, but I was always an easy target because of the way I was and because I acted 'differently' to most other kids.  Some "friends" were fine with me when I was with them alone, but took the mick when other 'cooler' kids were in their company.  My absurd sensitivity to such things may have had more of an affect on me than I realise.

Where all this sensitivity and loner-ness came from is another blog's worth of analysis, frankly.  I have my ideas, but overall I still believe it's partly conditioning and partly genetic.

All of this came to a head in 1997 when I started repeating to God - as someone who isn't religious - that I didn't want to die.  There followed a holiday around this time when we had to leave early because I was so anxious the whole time, crying constantly and feeling ill.  Not directly school-related, no, but you can tell that even back in my later days of primary school I was having problems.  In 1998 I saw a therapist.  But given I nor my parents really knew what 'condition' I had back then the therapy didn't have any effect (and I saw the same therapist again in 2007 and, well, chocolate and fireguard springs to mind).

(I remember my dad saying, the day after we came back off that aforementioned holiday - "why is he still behaving like this, we're back home now."  Sadly, none of us knew at this stage that this was the onset of a chronic condition that seventeen years later I still have to manage).

Then whilst all this was going on, it was time to go to high school...

I remember crying a lot when I first started at high school, which isn't that surprising I suppose but at the time just the change and the 'meeting new people' thing was far too overwhelming for me to deal with.  I don't remember exactly what I went through back in year seven, the first year, but I am certain that I was very much a recluse, meeting about two new friends only and beyond that just going from one lesson to another, nervous and in fear.  Examples include:

- Just sitting at the table with 'new' people in an English lesson trying my best to hold back tears.

- Doing PE (one of my favourite subjects... cough) in the gym and being bad at whatever it was we were doing compared to most, and crying as a result and having to make something up to pretend I wasn't pathetic enough to cry at something like that.

- Alienating anyone who could have potentially been my friend by either not talking to them or being angry with them for no reason.  I have no idea why.

At this point I must mention this.  In my last blog about University, I flagged up a series of lessons and tips that I'd learnt from my own experience.  Combating primary school and how to begin high school with anxiety is very difficult for me to draw lessons from, a) because it was a long time ago and b) because I don't really know what sort of advice I would give, save something pointless like "try and be more confident."  And moreover, the chances of anyone reading this under the age of 12 who is intelligent enough to know that they have an anxiety problem and deal with it, isn't remarkably high.  Lessons will come later.

My main concern in the first couple of years of high school was trying to be good at schoolwork and getting praise from teachers.  I didn't particularly like who I was back then, not that it really matters who you are when you're that young, within reason.  The key moment then, around 1999, was when my best primary school friend that I mentioned previously, moved away from my town and therefore my school, and this hit me hard. The last thing someone with anxiety needs is for their most trusted ally to move away.  The other two friends I'd made at high school I had, fortunately, made good friends with, but this move made any lessons without them difficult.

But if the first three years of high school were just about being nervous and under-confident and living mostly in isolation, it all got quite a lot worse at the start of GCSE, back in 2001. For a start, I started dreading certain lessons.  I made some strange choices of GCSE subjects.  Doing French and German was bad enough in itself, but this also meant I was put with the other half of our year for other lessons, for some unknown reason.  I didn't know anyone then, so the few friends I had made were always in different lessons from this point.  I hardly enjoyed any lessons and then there was the whole huge pressure of GCSE's.  Small fry now of course, but back then this was everything.  But there were two really key issues with GCSE years.  

1) Choosing to do Music GCSE.  For some reason I decided to do music GCSE.  Why?!  I couldn't really read music or play an instrument, but I was at an acceptable amateur level at creating tracks via computer software - something I still enjoy to this day.  I was told initially I could do this as part of my course, but no... instead for reasons I won't go into, they decided to make me play the recorder.  Possibly the only instrument that you can play and get the piss taken out of you about.  And not only that, I was crap at playing it and I had no desire to improve.  So this in itself was a confidence hit, but of course such is the nature of doing a music course, you were made to perform frequently, both in front of others and in exam conditions.  Even if I had have been a good recorder player, this would have been a nightmare... but because I was also terrible, my confidence just hit an all time low and the panic I went through prior to any sort of performance was unbearable.

Lesson 1: Choose the correct subjects.  I wish I'd chosen very differently and this could have made the difference between having a decent year or a terrible one.  Choose those subjects you enjoy and that you want to do, not what people think you should do.  This goes for GCSEs, A-Levels and even University courses.

2) The other main problem with GCSE years comes back to me being put with the other half of the year.  Not only was I not in lessons with the few friends I'd made, but I was put with a bunch of bullies - quite literally.  I mentioned bullying earlier.  I will never stand up and say 'I was bullied,' but really I should, because the piss taking and name-calling I had to endure throughout these two years was unacceptable.  I had several lessons with this bunch of low-lives - ironically, music wasn't one of them - and as a result each one was miserable, at best. 

Lesson 2: Bullying isn't acceptable.  Tell someone about it.  I know that can lead to problems in itself, but not telling someone did nothing for me so if I had the time again, I would tell someone about it.  Teacher, tutor, friend, parent, whoever.  Bullying can lead to places that are unthinkable, so tell someone, even if you think it's trivial.  

And yet all of this was unseen, as back then I managed to keep all of my anxiety bottled up.  I suffered with chronic and severe panic attacks back then.  I used to bottle everything up all day, and on average four or five evenings a week, just after I'd gone to bed, I would break into a panic attack - perhaps because no-one could see me.  It was a day's anxiety being unleashed all in one go.  This went on for all of GCSE and in the first year of sixth form.  

Lesson 3: Don't bottle your anxieties up.  This is the hardest thing to achieve, but in doing so, you are more likely to get help when you need it.

Exams for every subject were also a nightmare.  I was terrible at revising and found it difficult to concentrate, and the 24 hours leading up to any exam I would be in a heightened panic.  I swear my marks could have been higher if I wasn't in the grip of anxiety.  But panic disorder, such is the nature of it, meant that I kept thinking 'an exam hall would be one of the worst places I could have a panic attack.'  Thus, of course, preventing a panic attack became very difficult during exams, and more of my attention had to go into this rather than the exam itself. It's a wonder I passed everything in hindsight.

Lesson 4: Revise with someone who is doing the same subject, wherever possible.  Revising alone is no fun anyway, and can also allow your mind to build up with and dwell on panicky thoughts.  

I chose the wrong GCSE subjects and I also chose a wrong A-Level subject as well.  Year 12 improved as it went along - the wrong subject I chose, Physics, I knew I would drop at the end of the year, so cared less about it come the end and the other subjects were okay (although I still wish I'd chose differently), so the panic receded a little bit throughout the year.  Eating out was still a big problem; I remember a 17th birthday do towards the end of the year, 2004, that was a living hell and I barely ate anything.  But whether this was school related is another question entirely.

But all the bullying had stopped at this point and there were more coursework-based modules - which I preferred, taking the pressure off exams a little.  

Year 13 was certainly my best year at school.  I had more friends, did better subjects and had more laughs overall.  What spoilt year 13 wasn't school but driving lessons, which I have blogged about before.  Without these, year 13 could have been good, but driving lessons meant my panic outside of school was worse than ever.  Ironically, school became the one place I actually enjoyed being in year 13 and would go down as being the only year where things in school were good.  Real shame about the driving thing.

Lesson 5: Don't learn to drive unless you feel ready!

There is probably a lot more I could mention and if this blog wasn't too long already I could certainly go into more detail about certain aspects of my anxious school life.  In summary it was very difficult. About a year ago, I went back to my high school for my previous job where me and a colleague undertook an energy efficiency audit.  I thought it would be pleasantly nostalgic - instead, it made me want to forget my schooldays even more.  It brought back overwhelmingly bad memories overall.  

I will end on a positive though.  For all this blog focuses on the negatives of going to school with anxiety, as it should to make the point, I will say that my best friends today are still those people I've known since school.  One of them since 2001, a couple since 1999 and one since day one of primary school, back in 1991.  Nothing can ever take that away.

Best wishes
Al

1: Anxiety@ University

This is the first in a new series of blogs that explore how key milestones in my life have been affected by anxiety and how I have managed it, or not.  The first in the series starts with Anxiety@ University.  The Lessons in italics represent some of my pieces of advice based on my own experiences only.

I started University in September 2005.  I decided to stay at home, which probably isn't too surprising as someone who had been suffering with anxiety throughout my entire schooling life.  I purposely looked for a University I could commute to from home and managed to find a course that I wanted to do which was only a bus ride to the station from my house and then a 20 minute train journey to the campus with a short walk the other end.

Uni bar - nights of social turmoil

At this point I must say that I do not regret doing this.  From an academic point of view, I really enjoyed doing the course and since then, through both my previous and current jobs, I still take on placements every year from the department that I did my course at, so I go up to the campus every now and then and catch up with the lecturers.  Not only was the University close to home, the classes were quite small throughout the three years (no more than 35), all of the lecturers with a couple of exceptions were very pleasant and approachable and because of the class size they got to know you as a person as well as your academic strengths.  They were as concerned with your own personal development as much as they were with their own research etc.  So all of this meant it was a lot less overwhelming than it may have been if I'd have moved away, or had lectures with 150 people.  At that time I would have struggled to cope with that.

Lesson 1: Don't be ashamed to live at home during University.  For some people with anxiety, it might just be the difference between being able to go to University or not.  

This is more of a personal opinion, but it's relevant to this argument - I hate this belief that certain universities are better than others.  Better in what respect? At all the so-called 'top' Universities, none of the lecturers or even tutors know the students and lectures are with hundreds of people.  I hate the negative reputation former polytechnics have.  Yes, 'top' Universities may be great for some, but the sort of University I went to are perfect for many others - like myself.

Lesson 2: Don't be pressured into going to a so-called 'better' University if it is not right for you.

Anyway, despite this start, I was still struggling a little bit particularly from a social perspective.  I had met two friends, one of whom I happened to meet on the first train journey up as she was also commuting from my home town.  They were both very nice, but the problem I had over the first few weeks is that they were trying to get me involved in attending out of hours clubs etc.  At the time, I just didn't have the confidence to do this and I always ended up running off after lectures to get the next available train back to Stafford.  I was scared of making a fool of myself or coming across as boring.  And remember, I didn't have any confidence; the two people I'd met both had reasonable confidence in themselves and therefore in social situations.  I didn't.

Lesson 3: Using University to learn your subject is as important as learning to be more confident socially, especially if you have social anxiety.

We also went on a weekend fieldtrip after only a couple of weeks.   I remember on the coach journey there that I was close to quitting.  It hadn't been a disaster but I felt low because my only friends were making me uncomfortable in social situations and at that point nothing else was good enough for me to continue coming.  But the aim of this fieldtrip, by the department's own admission, was to allow people to get to know each other, and it worked quite well for me as I got to know a couple of other people who I hadn't really come across in the previous couple of weeks.  People who were also quiet and clearly not the most confident in the world.  My main problem on this trip was with eating; eating out, or indeed anywhere that wasn't 'home,' has been a huge problem for me over the years.  I don't remember people questioning it, perhaps because it was just a bit too early for people to ask things like that if they noticed - which I'm sure they did. But overall this trip was a success and gave me more people to latch on to subsequently.

Lesson 4: Don't quit too early even if it's hard to start with.

So I continued to catch the train in the morning, go to lectures, eat lunch occasionally at my friends hall of residence - uncomfortably - and got the first available train home.  My confidence socially didn't really improve on the simple basis that I didn't do anything socially - because I didn't have the confidence.

And whilst all this was going on, I was still suffering with panic attacks.  Generally these were less frequent than when I was at school but generally followed the same pattern - I went to bed and then had a panic attack.  Needless to say it exhausted me.

So overall, the positives of my first year were meeting the few people I did meet, having a relatively successful year academically and not completely falling apart.  Negatives of course were me being totally left behind by everyone else from a social perspective and my general anxiety that I had been suffering for a long time prior, which almost didn't have anything to do with University.  Uni was a means to an end for me at this point.

Sadly, after a long a dull summer, the second year got worse.  It was around the start of the second year that I started to get a severe bout of what I think was a form of OCD or Pure-O.  Basically, I had a song stuck in my head which I couldn't get out.  I kept coming back to it and it was just driving me to despair.  I remember having exams around just before Christmas 2006 and barely being able to concentrate because of my mind looping.  I've never really blogged about this for fear of it triggering it, but it was a really awful time.  And then, at the height of this ridiculousness, a close friend of the family suddenly passed away.  Selfishly, this actually gave me the impetus to do something about my problems and just before Christmas 2006 I saw a therapist at the University.  I didn't help in the slightest, but at least I made the effort to do something. My Pure-O problem, if that is indeed what it was, gradually dissipated and I remember the last part of the second year being a little better.

Lesson 5: Get help if it's available and speak to your lecturers if you get on with them - something I wish I'd done.

But overall, needless to say with all this going on. second year was basically a write off.  I just about managed to do the actual course - I was averaging a 2:2 - let alone do more socialising or improve my confidence.  And just as things did start to improve, it was time for the long, lonely summer break again.

I'm pleased to say, third year was better.  My "Pure-O" was far less prominent, my panic attacks were happening less often and I was able to socialise a little bit more, having made about five or six friends from the course who I now felt more comfortable with. I enjoyed spending more time on the campus and actually made the effort to stay behind for a drink or a chat after lectures.  For most people, this is something that is taken for granted when at University, but for me I just enjoyed the fact that I felt relatively comfortable and was able to enjoy the company of people I liked.  Although sounding contradictory, having more work in the third year was also okay, because a) I enjoyed the modules more, b) there were no exams and they used to affect my anxiety really badly and c) I think socialising more actually helped me to enjoy the work more too.  Don't get me wrong, I still had problems with:

- Eating out
- Drinking enough alcohol for it to be deemed acceptable at University level (peer pressure)
- Speaking to new people
- Presentations
- Pure O issue still lingering in the background
- A few panic attacks at times...

...but overall third year was much better and I enjoyed many days of it.

Lesson 6: Many people judge how good their University social experiences are by how much alcohol is involved.  You may want to judge it differently.

How did I cope day to day?  Well, running off to get the earliest possible train for one.  Not a strategy I should have taken but it felt like the only option at times.  Stick with people I'd made 'safe' was another.  Little things like bringing my own lunch with me from home helped too.

In terms of the bigger picture, along with that one therapy session I mentioned from the University, I also registered for NHS therapy in July 2006 - and got seen in August 2007.  The less said about that the better.  But the whole three years of University was all before I really knew anything about my condition and why I had it.  Critically it was also before I had learnt any tools to deal with it.  Consequently even when I went through the odd spell with less Pure-O or less panic etc, it was still a nervous time and socially I was cast aside and swept into the ether.  Only the third year allowed me to even slightly experience the sort of University experience that I wanted.  Part of me wishes I could go back there and do things differently; moreover part of me wishes I could go through the experience again today.  Another part of me is glad it's all over.

I suppose my words of wisdom based on my experiences of living with anxiety at University are as follows: try and embrace social situations and stay close to those people you warm to.  It may be difficult - those with social anxiety will know what I mean - but it will make the whole experience richer in the end and you'll be more able to cope with other anxiety-related conditions that may be troubling you.  It's the power of people again - something to this day I still need to work on.

Best wishes
Al

The Future's Bright, The Future's... Harlech?

I have just got back from a holiday to Harlech, Wales, where I stayed with a good friend of mine for four nights.  I must start by saying that this is an achievement in itself, because three or more years ago there is no way that I would have been able to do this.  Three years ago I could barely leave my home, let alone actually go on holiday.  Anyway, this is the third time me and my mate have done this; the first time we went to Borth in 2012, the second time was Talybont in 2013 just down the coast from Harlech, and this year Harlech itself.  Me and my friend, who I've known for 15 years, both enjoy walking and basically having a quiet time, getting away from life in the Midlands.  So it's ideal, as I'd otherwise probably not be able to go.

Harlech Castle

Anyway, the holiday before last, to Borth, came in the middle of my torrid time at my first shared house.  At this point, I'd have gone away and stayed in a Norwegian brothel full of horny, rampaging camels to get a break from my shared house, so in some ways the nervousness of going away for the first time in years was balanced out by this, making the experience easier.  The hardest part of holidaying back in 2012 was the train journey, perhaps unsurprisingly given what had happened 18 months prior.  The second holiday last year came when I'd just moved into this new shared house and was experiencing early transitional difficulties, but in the end the holiday helped me to clear my mind and work through my issues, so again the purpose of this outweighed the anxieties around staying in Wales.

This year, the living situation was less of an issue but I still wasn't nervous about going on holiday, which I think emphasises that I have strengthened a little.  Granted, it was still a comfortable location with a person I feel 'safe' with, but even still, I can look upon this as an achievement.  However, Harlech did something dangerous - it gave me time to think about things. My health anxiety started kicking in by the end, because the unfortunately reality of my life is that if I have time without work, i.e. less day to day things on my mind, the gaps get infiltrated with rubbish, namely health anxiety.  But apart from that, the break was much needed and also gave me time to think about where my life is (also not always a good thing!)

I live in a relatively small town in the Midlands.  It's a perfectly reasonable place to live and it is certainly home to me, mainly thanks to the people.  But as I get older, I'm increasingly thinking that the quiet, peaceful life is for me. I've always suspected it, for example by going on holiday to small, rural places like Harlech and enjoying the surroundings, but now even more so.  I'm getting more and more pissed off with people who haven't necessarily done anything to purposely annoy me, and I feel I need my own space a lot more.  I think I'm also appreciating the countryside even more than I used to, and that's considering I've always had a fondness for it, but more and more I want my own space, peace and to slow things down and do things in my own time.

So does all this mean I'm going to up sticks and move to Wales?  Sadly not; not least because such a huge change could be ravaged by an even greater transitional anxiety.  Moreover, what on earth would I do for work?  Plus then there's the people issue.  To contradict everything I've just written about, I still need people's company quite often, otherwise the negative thoughts that dwell when there's less to occupy my mind kick off.  So what I'm really saying is that I need both more space and just as much interaction with people.  That's an interesting concept.

Of course, one solution to this would be to find myself in a flourishing relationship, with someone you are comfortable spending time with and who you enjoy the company of.  But relationships like this happen in cuddly books, it seems.  So my challenge is to find other means to try and achieve the best of both worlds, at least to begin with.  Live with a good friend and no-one else, and stay in my home town, at least for now.  That way, it's a change, I live with someone I like but not with loads of people who, like them or not, mean I have to sit in my box-sized room just to escape the chaos.  Basically, I've become a proper 'settling down' adult about ten years too early.

To come back to when I first moved out in April 2012; even six months before this there is no way that I could have moved away from home.  So, despite the ultimately bad experience, to do this was an achievement.  To move back home in January 2013 took strength of character, because I had to take a backwards step to move forward when it would have been easier to plough on.  To move out again into a more socially-aesthetical house and a much better place overall in September 2013 took more courage, and this potential next step will too. 

But here is the crux of the matter - the real reason I want my own space and peace more.  The last 13.5 months of living in this house has taught me that greater social exposure does not necessarily lead to a gradual reduction in social anxiety.  This is especially true in situations where you're with other people who are naturally over-confident and who like talking about themselves (see last blog, point 4), and in social situations like meals out etc.  If anything, I think I'm less confident in front of such people now than I have ever been.  This bothers me of course, but the good news is that I've learnt to embrace this by enjoying my own time more.  Again, it's back to that balance and getting it right.  To be fair, my job gives me enough good interaction with other people, but it's the evenings and weekends that are most difficult to get right - when there's almost a pressure to socialise and be perceived as interesting in this modern world. 

I suppose what this rather brain-dump of a blog suggests is that I've learnt that someone with social anxiety and anxiety in general often has to tread very carefully when it comes to doing anything that could involve other people, particularly people you don't know.  You also have to think very carefully about how taking big steps in your life could affect you.  I would love my next next step, perhaps in a few years, to be to move to somewhere like Harlech, because it would give me that tranquillity that I so crave that I just don't get in 'normal' life, even in a (relatively) small Midlands town.  I think this environment is calling me, but I need to be in the right head-space - with the right people - to ever achieve this.

Perhaps this could be my long-term goal?

Best wishes
Al

What Would Really Help...

I thought I'd get off the heavier topics for a bit by writing a blog that was a little more light-hearted in nature.  However, much of this is still the truth.

What would I really like to happen to help with my anxiety?  Let's be honest here - other people are the cause of most problems, anxiety being one of them, so with that in mind what would help contribute towards an anxiety free life?

If only all trains were like this...

1) Ban other people

OK, maybe not.  But it's tempting.

2) Ban other people on trains 

But this is definitely more realistic.  The fact is, train travel is absolutely brilliant.  The ability to cruise through the countryside or from one town to another at 100mph is great, watching the world speed past, giving you the time to relax, work, read or whatever it is you can do to pass the time on the commute.

However, this falls into complete impossibility as soon as other people get onto the train.  If one insists that people other than me must take the train to make the railway network economically sustainable - although given the amount I'm charged for a season pass I doubt this is the case - then passengers must undertake the following steps prior to boarding:

- A loudness test.  Why do people shout to the person next to them?  I insist that people are forced to whisper to everyone and they must be tested on this prior to being granted entry.

- A rudeness test.  Anyone who considers taking up two seats with themselves and their bag, anyone who pushes past, who invades your space etc is not allowed.

- All mobile phones are confiscated to spare us the 'listen to me' conversations people insist on having over the phone. This links with the loudness test.

- Don't talk to strangers.  Please don't talk to me if you don't know me, unless you'd like to strike up an interesting and intellectual conversation. Since I've started commuting daily, I've had people recite these following anecdotes to me on a train:

"Gosh you're tall, it must be awkward standing up if you're at the window seat."
Really? I hadn't noticed I'm tall.

"It's often really busy on these trains."
Said when 18 of us were standing up crammed into the vestibule end.

"Where are you travelling too?" Stafford. "The place with the hospital?"

I'm sad to report I didn't answer the last question.  I'm not normally ignorant, but if you don't have anything useful or interesting to say, don't make me feel uncomfortable by talking utter tripe or asking pointless questions.

3) Give people wing mirrors

I walk fast primarily because, as the man on the train pointed out, I am tall.  And I don't dither (my friend and I are forever cursing ditherers. Just get on with it).  So I walk fast and I am able to do so because I have a high spatial awareness.  If I can't overtake someone without risking pushing past, I wait.  If I'm standing in the street I move out the way when people are approaching to let them through.  If I'm sitting next to someone on the train, I give them equal room.  However, it seems most people have no spatial awareness.  They are usually idly browsing their phones or just simply not looking where they are going or not aware of the fact they are taking up 90% of the available room.  If we installed people with mirrors so they can could see all angles, then this would help.  Question is, I can manage to maintain spatial awareness, so why can't you?

The same goes for swimming.  People seem to be unable to see others in the pool and swim in a straight line assuming the other person (me) swims out of the way.

Unless it's just rudeness??

4) Ban over-confidence

Along with a loudness test, one should also be made to take an over-confidence test before going out with friends, starting Uni or moving into a shared house.  Give them the following brief:

"You have five minutes to talk about something. Anything you like."

If they talk a lot about themselves and not a lot about anything else, this suggests over-confidence and thus will not help social anxiety sufferers.  This often comes hand in hand with loudness as well so you could easily combine the two tests.  Job done.

5) Ban TV adverts or documentaries about health

As someone with health anxiety, the last thing I need is a unnecessary medium that triggers off panic at the site of an advert around having a stroke, for example.  If you're in the UK you will have seen it.  The one that looks like there's a burning hole appearing in someones head, with an annoying narrator telling you what you should do if someone is having a stroke.  I'm sure it's all useful information, but I have to run out of the room or cover my eyes and ears if that sort of televisual comes on because otherwise I will sub-consciously begin looking for signs that I am about to have a stroke.

Health anxiety is a lovely thing, eh?

What makes it difficult is if something like this is part of a programme or it happens when you're at the cinema, for example.  What do you do then without drawing attention to yourself?  Banning such adverts or story lines in programmes, or at least providing a warning before they appear, would minimise health anxiety triggers no end.

6) Enforce law around dog leads

Bear with me on this one.

As you may have gathered, I love the countryside, I love walking and I'm lucky enough to have plenty of great scenery and space near to where I live.  I type this particular section of this blog just an hour after returning home from an 8-and-a-half mile Sunday morning walk.  What I don't like about such walks is the fact that you have to play 'dodge the dog' every time you're out.

People seem arrogant about not putting their dogs on leads around where I live, even though most of them cannot control them.  They run at you round here, from in front or behind.  Please, put your dogs on leads if you can't control them so that other people can enjoy their walks and not have to worry about having to bandage up their ankles.  And whilst you're at it, take a loudness test.  Don't disturb the rural peace.

I love animals, including dogs... just not the owners who can't control them.

7) Ban relationship procrastination

Whether this is the same for most people with anxiety I don't know, but for me trying to read other people that you like is a very difficult task.  Over-analysis often comes hand in hand with anxiety and as such you need clear signs if someone likes you and if they are willing to meet up.  Unfortunately, everyone I've ever fallen for is about is easy to a read as a work of Shakespeare in sanskrit.

I would make it so that people have to say what they think when it came to relationships and feelings, as it would make life a darn sight easier.  Even if it wasn't what you wanted to hear, it would prevent months of emotional dithering and eventual heartbreak, which could have just happened in five minutes if we didn't procrastinate.  

8) Enforce personal health laws

Everyone should:

- Wash their hands after sneezing or doing anything with their hands that could have made them dirty (answers on a postcard please).

- Where a mask if they insist on coughing or sneezing frequently.

- Shower daily.

...and just generally clean themselves and clean up after themselves as a routine.  Punishment for failure to do these things is ten years in prison.

I feel, therefore, that if these seven principles were enforced - and the list probably isn't exhaustive - then people with anxiety would all live in a much less anxiety-fraught world.  We would be comfortable around other people and live happily ever after in a clean house and where everyone was blunt, had wing mirrors, spatial awareness, a dog with a lead, no TV adverts relating to health problems and people who were quiet and shy. 

If we also wipe out all wasps, spiders and caffeine, we're almost there.

Best wishes
Al

The Impact of Chronic Anxiety on a Young Person

Many of my more recent blogs have focused on confidence and how having years of anxiety has decimated my confidence in certain situations, particularly socially and in developing relationships.  This blog kind of continues on a similar theme, but my over-thinking of this issue lately has led me to draw more firm conclusions about why my confidence is decimated and the role anxiety has played in this.

Insert stereotypical image here

Ever since I was in primary school, I knew I was not 'normal,' as my child-framed perception of having a mental health problem was.  I know the statistics say that 1 in 4 people will, at some point, experience a mental health problem, but my assumption is that this is over the course of a lifetime; I don't know the stats for children.  Either way, it didn't seem that I was able to do things to quite the same extent as others my age, all the way from about the age of ten to my University years, and since.  In the very early days, I didn't even appreciate that what I had was a manageable problem and considered it something I had to put up with, until it dawned on me in late high school that this wasn't the case.  My symptoms to those closest to me were more than obvious, I'm sure, which I think goes to prove again how little support I got in dealing with my anxiety growing up, not because people didn't want or try to help, but because they didn't know what to do.  It wasn't until I was nearly 25 years old that I realised what I had to do, and even then I had to work it out for myself, with no guidance from family, friends or professionals.  

So all this anxiety - 

from OCD thoughts back way in 1997 ("please don't let me die" was a mantra I remember I kept repeating in late primary school - I'm not totally sure who the plea was aimed towards but anyway) and general fear about death, to constant panic attacks particularly in 2002-4, to Pure-O and panic in 2005-7, chronic eating problems in 2003-6 and again in 2010-11, health anxiety the entire time to varying extents, to my epic panic attack in 2012...

- has not surprisingly prevented me from enjoying the fruits of life in quite the same way as many other people.  Going back to the 1 in 4 statistic; anyone experiencing a mental health problem at any time is a terrible thing, but how many of these 1 in 4 have a chronic condition, a condition that persists for years and years?  And how many of these start in relatively early childhood and persist throughout most of their developmental years?  Less than 1 in 4, I would wager.

Of course, it's between the ages of 10 and 27, the latter of which I am now, that most people who class themselves as not being poor (which my immediate family isn't) are able to flourish and discover the world, particularly nowadays with University, gap years and the greater opportunity there seems to be to travel and delay getting a full time, 'take up all your time' job.  So I'm afraid I haven't been abroad many times (only once, if you don't count Guernsey and Ireland), I haven't joined various clubs, tried this or that sport, been so drunk that I've woken up next to my best friend's girlfriend's hamster in the back of an unknown person's sports car, or been to thirty festivals each year since I was six years old.  I haven't been able to, for large periods of that time, even contemplate doing these things, let alone actually do them.  For most of it, I wouldn't have been in the mental or, consequently, the physical space to be able to.

Since completing fifty sessions with Anxiety UK's fantastic therapy service, which I concluded over two years ago now, I have been in a stronger position to have discovered more of these experiences.  That said, for me, being able to catch the train and live away from my parents' home without major problems are still classed as huge achievements.  But, I'm certainly in more of a position to do a couple of things, no least go on holiday somewhere different or try a few different past-times.  It would be hard, initially, but doable - and doable, although not spectacular when many people take such things for granted, for me is better than I could have hoped two years or more ago.

So what's the problem?  A lack of confidence, caused twofold: 1) My confidence during these anxious years understandably made me very low on confidence generally, about most things.  Social things, doing presentations, driving and at times, just being out of the house.  But also 2) this chronic anxiety has had a long term effect on my confidence.  True, certain confidences, such as doing presentations for work, have improved dramatically through continued practice, but other confidences, especially socially, have not, because I've never had the opportunity to build it up.  Confidence through work came naturally because once I secured the jobs I've had, things like presentations were thrust upon me.  Whereas socially, it's up to me to make the first move, which is of course the most difficult thing.  

And even though my anxiety is in a stable and more manageable position today, social confidence if anything is becoming worse.  The older I get, the harder it is to justify why I haven't done this, that and the other.  Consequently, rightly or wrongly, I feel like I'm dull, feel like I'm uninteresting in other people's eyes.  This is especially true when you factor in my lack of ability to actually speak up in conversations about most topics, even if I have an interest in it or an opinion about it. As I mentioned in the last related blog, it does seem these days that there are more confident people around too - although that's probably naturally people becoming more confident with age.  If anything, in certain ways, it's reversing for me.

I've not shied away on this blog from how this may affect my long-term relationship prospects and this is a genuine concern.  I think I have an extreme perception about how I should come across, i.e. very "interesting," but even still - that feeling is very difficult to shake off.  It's little wonder that this is the case, given how anxiety has prevented my "interesting" experiences.  Even today, I still fear doing something totally out of the ordinary will trigger a nasty incident, so it's not as if I've reached that 'sod it, I'm going to do it and to hell with the consequences' stage yet.  Maybe I will at some point.

Don't get me wrong though. I am a lot happier now than I was even just a couple of years ago, and certainly at other times in my childhood, teenage years and early twenties.  I am grateful for what I now have, and indeed, what I have less of, i.e. constant, severe anxiety.  But perhaps I should be more grateful of this, rather than feeling low about what I perceive to be a lack of opportunities I have in the future due to my battered confidence.  But it's not always easy, especially when other people around you have seemingly more "interesting" lives - or are at least able to convey their lives in a more interesting away.

>> Today is World Suicide Prevention day and in relation to this I will just say one thing - I am genuinely grateful for having never felt I've needed to take my own life.  I hope WSP day and on-going action will help all of those people who have felt and do feel like this, as the frequency of incidents of suicide is becoming truly shocking and heartbreaking.

Best wishes
Al

The Twitter Army

It's around six months since I set up my @AnxietyTracker Twitter account.  At the time, I didn't know how to use Twitter and perceived it to be something that people used simply to pry on the lives of celebrities, which isn't something I have a vast interest in.  But I also understood that it was the best, modern way of getting something out there, out into the public domain, especially for businesses for example.

Did they ever consider the name 'Honk?'

In addition, people love talking about themselves - that's just human nature - it doesn't mean we're all self-absorbed or arrogant.  Of course we love talking about ourselves, we know ourselves better than we know anyone else. That's what we think anyway.  And Twitter, by it's very nature, has given us a platform to shout about what we're doing and what our opinions are to the whole world.

The problem for me is that anxiety has battered my self-confidence and perception that I am anything other than dull and uninteresting, a perception I still hold today.  So why on earth would I want to shout about what I'm doing, given that I also know that I'll care if other people don't care about what I'm doing.  It's just setting up a recipe for disaster - a mundane one. 

"I'm watching the #football."

0 retweets
0 favourites
0 replies
0 one gives a s**t

You get the idea.

So I mused about this and thought that the best thing I would be able to tweet about is mental health, my associated experiences and my blog which was already relatively well established. People genuinely may find that interesting and may get some benefit from it.  It's also a topic I know a bit about, having been through anxiety for most of my life.  I can be confident it'll be read with genuine interest by at least somebody and will, therefore, make it worth my time.  I could even tweet about the odd non-mental health related story, if I'm feeling really brave. (This hasn't happened too often).  

So I quickly learnt the basics of Twitter and found that I acquired a fair few followers very quickly, and not just followers, but the right 'sort' of followers.  In other words, those people who also have a mutual interest in mental health and, of course, experience of suffering, whether it be anxiety or another mental health issue.  You also have to follow the right people, which I've also tried to do.

And although mooted above, it then struck me that being on Twitter and talking about mental health is one of the best ways to raise awareness.  Along with promoting my blog, it could also generally contribute a minuscule amount to the existing Twitter and non-Twitter Army of people who are doing their bit to try and combat the stigma surrounding mental health.  Promoting my blog will do this anyway, because that's what this blog is all about, but my general whimsy and tweets about anything to do with mental health do one thing if nothing else - prove that I'm not frightened or embarrassed to talk about it.

And what I have also learnt since setting up my Twitter account is that there is a huge army of people using the tool who are doing the same thing - whether it be purposely like me, or inadvertently.  There are so many people who use it to express their feelings and what they are going through, to an army of people who understand.  And all of this raises the awareness of mental health and how we can stop the stigma.

It's not all positive in my experience, though.  Whilst Twitter is a great tool for raising awareness, my fear is that some people become gripped by it and almost addicted to what it can do - a bit like Facebook.  It could also become a substitute for actually verbalising (or talking, as they say in English) about mental health which still has to be the most effective way of getting the messages about mental health across - doesn't it?

I have very mixed emotions about social media and what it is doing to society, as I've expressed in previous blogs.  But in this case, the case of raising awareness of mental health and trying to remove stigma, I think it is far more positive than negative.  It's wonderful that so many people are 'coming out' about their condition, people who may not have the confidence to do so in verbal form but who do when it's in the confines of their own digital world.  OK, so it's a mask, but one that can reach more people than verbalising, potentially.  

I have a modest 137 followers on Twitter to date, but given much of my twittering is done on the train on my commute to/from work and that I always fail in taking the time to follow loads of people myself, I'm still satisfied with that.  If just one person finds my blogs or posts useful, I'm happy - it's worth continuing.  

I still think we need to activate caution when using social media generally, especially from a mental health perspective, but in my mind there is no doubt that Twitter, with it's ever-growing army, has provided a positive platform in contributing towards killing off mental health stigma.  

Best wishes
Al

The Selfishness of Health Anxiety

I've learnt, having lived with health anxiety for nigh on 17 years, that it can be a very selfish condition.  Or rather, it can make you into a selfish person at the most sensitive of times. 

Another fairly accurate depiction...

Health anxiety, by my definition, is thinking that a pain or physical discomfort of any sort that I have is going to turn into something life threatening.  So for example, in the past I have had many issues with a fast heart rate or a chest pain and being convinced a heart attack is imminent.  Of course, thinking like this makes you feel anxious and therefore increases your heart rate and the likelihood of chest pains.... I figure you get my point and the vicious spiral such a condition can turn into.  And it can be with any pain - I've even been known to associate random pains with conditions where a link between the two is nonsensical.  It's like there is an incorrect wiring in my brain that automatically makes me do this and, although I have better tools to manage it since undergoing CBT, it's still something I have to live with.  

However, whilst being a pain in the backside - no doubt, a life threatening one - this isn't the selfish part of the problem.  This comes in when I hear about other people being ill.  When someone starts talking about illness generally, I often get strong feelings that I am going to become ill with that same illness.  I pick up on the most minor ailments that I've ever had and concoct a complex tale that said ailment is going to become the illness that is being talked about. I've also been known to feel faint when an illness is being talked about, particularly if it's a tale from start to finish, e.g. if someone was talking about someone else who had recently had a heart attack and the associated symptoms, I would often have to leave the conversation due to feeling faint or, at best, uneasy.  

Moreover, there are potential longer-term implications for something like this.  If the story teller, for example, was to describe how the person with the problem felt, I would latch onto this and add it to my portfolio of symptoms that I can then blow out of all proportion.

Other than seeming rude and exiting a conversation mid flow, this doesn't result in any great selfishness either. However, the above scenario is the same if someone falls ill when I'm with them.  A good example is when a friend from my old place of work fell ill during a Christmas meal one time.  He suddenly stopped responding to people and almost zoned out - it was very strange and sudden, and an ambulance was called fairly swiftly.  Witnessing this gradually resulted in me becoming hotter and hotter and spots started appearing in my eyes, so much so that I had no choice but to take myself off to the toilet cubicle and sit there for what could have been anything from five to fifty minutes.  I had to sit with my head down so that I didn't collapse and as such, I couldn't help out with the situation that was unfolding in the pub, or even express my concern whilst sitting there helplessly.  

So, although I'm sure people probably didn't notice, I felt selfish for having to put my own needs first.  What didn't help is that the person who fell ill in this case is one of those people who would do anything for anyone and as such the fact that I couldn't even be there to help when he needed it most made me feel terrible. The reality is, though, that I know I did the best thing leaving the scene.  Had I stayed, the rest of the group would have had two sick people to deal with, so I had no choice; my selfishness was, at least, enforced.

Now, me leaving didn't have much impact on this situation.  My main concern is if something happens to someone, whether I know them or not, and I happen to be the only person who can help them, for whatever reason.  Perhaps I could be trapped in a lift with someone and they start having a panic attack, thus inducing one in me? Sounds stupid, but why not?  The last thing I want is for my weird health anxiety condition - if that's what this is - to prevent me to from helping someone when they most need it.

I also have this thing around other people who are ill - not as seriously as the example above, but say if someone has a cold, I suddenly want to wrap myself up in a bubble and get away from them.  I express discomfort around people if they have some sort of illness or, as daft as it sounds, even if someone sneezes I can feel uncomfortable.  I think this is more of an OCD thing than a health anxiety thing, but it still relevant and similar in many ways.  If someone sneezes, I'm automatically guaranteed a cold, if you believe my mind.  It's the same catastrophic, negative thinking that I can't escape from to do with health.  As a result of this, another selfish element comes in -  if someone is sick and they want to talk to me about it, I just want to avoid them for fear of catching it from them.  Thus appearing like I don't care.  Either that, or I come to them armed with Carex hand gel.

The summary - I over-analyse health and I catastrophise over what could happen to me.  I feel selfish when I have to take myself away from 'unhealthy' situations. I just wish I could re-wire my brain so that I didn't get this ridiculous negative thought in the first place.

But then again, if I could do that, I probably wouldn't have anxiety.

Best wishes
Al  

The Confidence Issue

I have alluded to this numerous times on this website over the past 2+ years and perhaps unsurprisingly, a lack of self-confidence and self-esteem often go hand in hand with chronic anxiety conditions.  My confidence in certain situations is still so low, usually on a social scale and unfortunately in this day and age I am surrounded by a whirlwind of high self-confidence and almost arrogance that people unashamedly display.  People love talking about themselves and of course social media has become a platform on which to do this to an even bigger audience.

Fairly accurate

People actually think we care about things happening in their lives. Some people do, true friends maybe (if this isn't a dying concept), but such true friends would surely know about their engagement, their new house or their pregnancy anyway.  Because, therefore, there are so many platforms on which to showcase your lives, and because as a nation we seem to be getting more confident and self-absorbed anyway (or maybe that's just my impression), people whose confidence has been ravaged, like mine, become even more distant from the rest of society - thus making your confidence even lower. Even I Tweet and post the odd Facebook status about my life - even though I know no-one gives a crap.

So yes, people love talking about themselves.  They enjoy saying what hobbies they have, what they are into, what their personal statuses are in terms of relationships, for example.  Unfortunately, I've been surrounded by many people who have seemingly done a lot with their lives - they've been on many holidays, stag dos (I can't think of anything worse personally), skiing in the Alps, elephant riding in the Galapagos Islands (this probably isn't a thing but you get my point).  Most of the people my sort of age come from fairly privileged backgrounds, so they have had the financial support to do such things.  And of course there's their almost compulsory tales of drunken times at University and how much fun they had.  Whilst some of us wasted two years battling serious anxiety.

So they can naturally be more confident because they have more things to brag about.  Slightly harsh maybe, but that's how it comes across if you're someone who would like to have travelled and be in a blossoming relationship, but who haven't had the opportunity because your confidence or ability to travel or sustain a relationship has been disrupted, at best.

And yes I won't deny some (some - not all) of people's tales can be interesting or entertaining, genuinely.  But in the end tales of their fabulously adventurous lives have longer-term 'I'm wasting my life' connotations with someone like me who hasn't done many of these things.  Don't get me wrong, many of the things people talk about I wouldn't want to do, but it would have been nice to have had the option.

Even though my anxiety is now much more stable than at most periods in the past, a) certain things I would still find difficult and b) these historical periods have made things more difficult to execute now I'm older.  University experience, for example, has been and gone.  Developing a relationship (see last but one blog) becomes more difficult the older you get, by anyone's admission.  

And whether it's because of social media or just a generational shift change I don't know, but people these days just seem to be more confident, more cocky and want to dominate conversations.  

I also despise the role of alcohol in all of this.  Why is it that social events are automatically not good if alcohol is not involved?  People feel that they have to get drunk to have a good time.  Again, alcohol and me haven't been friends in the past (causing fast heart rate, etc) and so I can't tell as many tales, or indeed brag, about my wonderfully drunken nights in the past.  Get over yourselves.

Okay, so this has turned into a bit of a rant, which surprisingly was not my initial intention.  My point is this - I don't feel comfortable talking about myself. If people ask me how my day was, or what I'm up to at the weekend, I feel embarrassed by telling them if it doesn't involve copious amounts of alcohol or if it involves enjoying a long walk or watching football.  I'm quite happy doing that, but I almost feel like I'm being judged by not doing something that is perceived by society as more 'interesting.'  Even from a work perspective, people don't hesitate in telling me what they have done at work.  I don't mind this, I find it interesting;  but when people ask me I find it hard to tell them in an interesting way, so I end up saying that my day was just OK and thus my day's appraisal gets swallowed up by everyone else's.  People also have the uncanny ability to make it so that if you don't like the things they are into, you're weird.  Again, I refer to skiing, skydiving, drinking excessively, taking crack and so on.  Why?  But nevertheless, this 'shoot you down' attitude further lowers the confidence of someone like me.

I've had a long-term debate with myself as to whether a lack of confidence causes anxiety or anxiety causes a lack of confidence.  I think now it's a bit of both; I feel uncomfortable in social situations which makes me anxious for example.  Conversely, having anxiety and its preventative nature means I have less to talk about and that makes me less confident in social situations.  It's not a very nice spiral.  

As my last but one blog showed, I have a chronic lack of self-esteem and confidence in many situations still today.  Just the thought of anyone being interested in anything I have to say is not a concept I can accept, and yet most people are totally the opposite.  My ability to approach certain uncomfortable situations is shockingly poor.  Years of anxiety have led to a potential perception that I am boring.  Moreover, certain things that I do that I love (e.g. walking, listening to trance music etc) people think is boring.  So why would I want to talk to them about it?

There are a select few people who, yes, might talk about themselves and their interests but who also show as much of an interest in you, and ask you questions that are thoughtful but that don't go too far.  But generally, I feel as someone with chronic issues around this, that I am being more and more swamped and drowned by an ever increasing population of over-confident beings.

Best wishes
Al