Raw Anxiety: A Personal Experience.

There was a time when I didn't fret. It seems a long time ago now. When I remember those days I see myself as calm and rational, spirited and carefree. All it took was one wayward relationship, just being in love with the wrong man, to send me into a game of cat and mouse with anxiety. As the relationship was ending the anxiety grew worse and worse. Each day began with a terrible sensation of dread. A night out with my partner meant feelings of insecurity, jealousy, hurt and rejection. A night out with friends meant checking my phone every few minutes and rushing away as soon as my boyfriend suggested I see him. In an effort to grasp some control I challenged this man to treat me better. He walked away. For the most part I held my head high and tried to appear strong. I told the famous lie, 'I'm fine', over and over again. Many people believed me, I can only assume because they saw no point in my staying in this dead end relationship. I ended up feeling very alone and shaky, playing the strong and brave Jane Eyre when, in fact, I was crumbling inside. I tried to reconnect with friends who I had grown distant from during the course of this relationship only to find myself ruining each evening by getting disgustingly drunk and crying, sometimes in the bathroom, usually in front of the entire party.

I remember my first anxiety attack extremely clearly.  I was working as a casual teacher in a school I had never been in before and I was a bit nervous. Before the day began I had a conversation with the ex on my mobile outside the staffroom. It was civil and uninteresting. I hung up feeling unfulfilled. There were things I had wanted to say but the wall was up and there was no point. I had to teach many different classes that day. The first one I went into was a lovely year four class. Half way through a question and answer section of the lesson my breath slipped out of me, my head grew light, my heart boomed so loud in my ears I could not hear the children. The anxiety ripped my chest open, blinded my eyes and forced me to sit. I mumbled an apology and the room sat in silence as I fumbled for my composure. I knew I had to breathe. I had no choice. I needed this job and I needed to teach these children. I bit back tears as it occurred to me that I was at the mercy of my own irrational fears. That such fears could leap at me from seemingly nowhere and cripple me, humiliate me. I managed to stand and to continue to teach. I survived the day and was a ghost in the staffroom at break times. I taught the week and was not invited back there to teach again.

Every day became a struggle with these very physical feelings. Even as I type and remember, my hands are beginning to shake and my breath is squeezing painfully in my lungs. Anxiety is something that one suffers from, I mean really suffers. Some people endure it their entire lives, from childhood. Others people have a trigger, a specific, shocking or tragic event. I attribute my anxiety to a gradual erosion of my sense of self worth and confidence. It is unfair to imply that this deterioration was deliberate on the part of my ex. In fact, I should shoulder a good deal of the responsibility. It was
the familiar situation, 'he's just not that into you'. I took way too long to take the hint. About three years too long. There was an event after the first six months where I should have packed up and walked away. It crossed my mind, but I was already blinded. We were holidaying in Byron Bay and he was clearly considering being with me or another girl. One night he didn't come back to our accommodation but stayed with her. I should have left him there. Jumped in my car and driven away with no note or explanation. Instead I waited, had a rational conversation with him and was convinced. It was from that point that my stock in myself began to plummet and I invested it all in him.

The road to recovery was not as easy as many people might believe. Those who have not experienced anxiety and its pressure on daily life may not comprehend quite how constricting it may become. I had to take each day as a small step forward. I did not go out much but stayed at home, nursing my poor mental health. I would take criticism to the very core of my being and I would cry far more often than is healthy for a person. I would have to face each attack with a mantra; "this will pass, this will pass". I stubbornly fought against the advice to seek a psychiatrists help. Pretending to be happy was physically painful, but that is what I did. Some friendships deteriorated and then ended, through misunderstandings that I did not have the energy to explain. I was, at one point, told I was being selfish. This person did not know the full extent of the hell I was in. I had no choice but to walk away. To open the floodgates then would have appeared to be asking for pity.

Thankfully, I also had the true care and kindness of many great friends. People saw me drowning, despite my lies of happiness and health. I was invited into the warmth of their hearts and wrapped in their love. They forgave my absence and my distance. They nurtured me, brought me out of my shell and continued to remain patient and kind until I felt ready to release the pain and to accept their help. As the old year passed into the new year I felt reborn. A very relaxing new years celebration, a three week holiday in my favourite place on earth (Niseko) as a dear friend's guest, a special weekend wedding a little north of Sydney and then a magical one a long way north of Sydney. Each joyful event was a sign I was healing. The fear was abating, the mornings filled with dread and loathing were becoming fewer and fewer. The people who brought me back to life are so special to me now that my heart aches with love for them. The people who I fell away from during and as a result of the pain I was in, I feel ready to reach out to. I've come a long way from the girl who would cry at the thought of getting out of bed.

This has been an emotional piece to write. I am crying as I type these words because I know how lucky I am. I have managed to climb out of the abyss. Despite the relaxed days of happiness that I now experience one after the other, I keep a copy of, "Living with IT; A Survivor's Guide to Panic Attacks" by Bev Aisbett, on my shelf as a safety net. I know they can come back at any time without any warning. And they do. They come out of the blue on the best of days with no possible explanation. But my experience is mild. I am lucky that the trigger for my anxiety left my life, that I was able to live without it. I am so fortunate to have the family and friends I do, who saw me falling apart and were there for me. It is a painfully slow road to recovery, and I don't know if it will ever be complete, but I am getting there... step by step.

Berlin...Six months in.

What a whirlwind this romance has been. Eighteen months ago I met a man, a lovely man and we fell in love. It felt so right when we moved in together. Life was wonderful in our little art-deco apartment in Marrickville with our sunny kitchen and spacious quarters. Then a holiday to Germany changed everything. We were both offered jobs in his home town, Berlin. This was an amazing turn of events in a city where people struggle to find work. We could hardly refuse. So on our one year anniversary we very romantically boarded a plane for the long journey to Europe. Our excess baggage was safely stowed in the cargo hold and the rest of our things were making slow passage across the seas to meet us in a few months.

The weather was beautiful when we arrived. Hot and sunny with blue skies and lush greenery everywhere. Berlin is 18% forests as a result of the Berlin wall. The people in the West needed to have their recreational areas inside the wall and so there are now very luxurious expanses of wilderness and forests just moments from the bustling city. The city is also riddled with ribbons of river. Bars lounged along the banks of the Spree all summer long, serving ice-cold beverages and soft salty brezels. Close to our accommodations (my fella's mother's apartment) was a lake called Schlachtensee. We were able to cycle there as the city itself is flat and cycle paths are everywhere *. That first visit to the lake had me awestruck. It was nestled in a little forest. Naked people were everywhere, relaxing in the grass or the water. People strolled and cycled along the dirt path that skirted the waters edge. Children splashed and dogs barked. We hired a rowboat and made our way to the middle of the quiet end of the lake. It was so hot and beautiful I took courage from the nudity of those around me, stripped off and leapt in. That water on my skin was something I will never forget. Coming from Australia I can honestly say there are two times in my life I have swum in fresh water. Once was a waterfall in Northern Queensland and once was a waterfall in Thailand. Both experiences were of freezing cold, hard water. This lovely green lake in Berlin was refreshing but not chilling, smooth and soft and luscious. I couldn't touch the bottom and there were no waves bashing me about. There was no sand or salt on my skin as I basked in the sunlight afterwards to dry. Most surprisingly, I didn't get burned.

That first week of lake swimming, city cycling and beer garden dwelling was blissful. All too quickly it was over and I was flung into my new role as English teacher in a bilingual school. The first week was all professional development... in German. I had no idea what was going on despite the kind translations from some of the more proficient bilingual staff. It was hot in the building as well, so concentrating on my smattering of this beautifully ugly language was a real issue. The children arrived the next week and without the scaffolding of a syllabus I had to take in as much information as I could, as quickly as I could. I had to get to know a timetable that meant classes changed at strange times without bells. I had to read schedules with abbreviations of words in a language I didn't understand. Frequently I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The staff around me were really supportive and understanding. They calmed me when I was feeling frantic, untangled me when I was confused and encouraged me when I felt ineffective.

The weeks passed and the Autumn holidays came and went. I just rested, I needed it. Homesickness peaked and waned, resurged and passed. Each month my man and I found some lovely adventure to have. We visited Rugen in the North, Venice, Dublin, Oktoberfest and Salzberg. We had friends visit before Christmas just as we managed to find and move into our own place. My mum came and stayed over Christmas. We had a wonderful festive season filled with lights and the famous Christmas markets. It was busy and filled with food, drinks and parties. Then suddenly the lights went out, the friends and family departed and I have been left in a Berlin that is cold and very grey. There are no leaves on the trees and not much snow on the ground. There is gravel everywhere to prevent people slipping when there is snow. This makes the city feel dirty and unkempt. The beer gardens are closed and the cheerful sparrows are hiding. The sun hardly ever comes out. When it does it seems a long way away and the lack of cloud cover makes it even colder than before. I feel as though there is very little to do, especially as people are still allowed to smoke in bars here (unofficially allowed) and it's too cold to sit outside. I could go and visit galleries and museums and I probably should (I promised mum I'd be well versed on the best ones when she comes back next) but for some reason the motivation is not there. I'm craving the sunshine and the feel of that lake water against my skin again.

It's the first winter that is said to be the hardest. The stretch between New Years and the first buds of spring particularly. I think I will cave and visit Australia before winter properly breaks this year. Whatever gets me through. My adopted home will call me back and I'm sure I will fall in love with her again when the sun comes out. It has been a roller-coaster ride with distinctive ups and downs. It has been undeniably difficult, more difficult than any other overseas adventure I have had, perhaps because it's for the long term. I try hard to avoid thinking of our blissful Marrickville life with friends around the block and yum-cha at the corner. Despite the drudgery of this winter, I know that summer in our own place in Berlin will be spectacular. I know that the beauty and bliss of this place in warmer times will eclipse my memories of these short, grey days. I know that this city will then capture my heart for good, and I think on all of this while reminding myself that summer is less than six months away.

* A tip: When you first arrive in Berlin these cycle paths are bound to catch you unawares. The paths run along the road or the footpath and the cyclists move in the same direction as traffic. You must be aware and check for bikes as you get out of either side of a car and also as you get out of buses. They come up quick and Berliners are quite happy to shout at you if you get in their way.