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