So I'm currently writing a book and wanted to share a small section of it to see what people think.
So here goes... The idea of dying is one which even from childhood has scared me. As a kid I would panic even at the pure mention of the word. More often than I care to think about I find myself experiencing sleepless nights in the lead up to any MRI or significant hospital appointment with my consultant because I was anxious of what they may or may not say. The month before any trip to Southampton Hospital was mental torture, as I tried to decode and process logical arguments around, why I was having such frequent check ups. I would resort to washing my hands more frequently and carrying out other compulsions I’d used as an escape from my anxiety and OCD. On every single occasion I would go round in a circle, finding some relief in washing my hands, well at least for a minute or two then I’d be back in front of the bathroom sink often to the point I made my hands were raw or bleeding. When I started experiencing higher levels of anxiety my mental health took the wheel, it took control. In a lot of ways this is still the case today when I can sometimes find myself going round and round trying to manage my OCD and the demands of life. During the winter of 2010 my view of death changed, no longer was I ‘scared’ of the prospect of dying, rather I began convincing myself that if I wasn’t around anymore, things would be better. I had made myself believe that ending the pain not only would not only get rid the fear, worry and depression I was enduring. But, I also felt, it would take the stress away from my family and friends who I at the time felt like a burden too. For a long time, I’d go to the beach, sit near to the sea and just feel numb, as I tried to forget everything I was feeling. A coping mechanism I’d find myself seeking comfort in at my lowest. It was the lead up to Christmas and something had happened at home during the time my parents began separating. After being given some news from my father I ran out of the house, unaware of where I was going, unaware if I would go home. At that moment the only thoughts going through my mind were “why me?” and “should I?”, should I go through with all the thoughts of suicide running in and out of my head at the time. Not long after running from the house, I found myself back at the beach going through every eventuality in my mind. Exhausted from the worry and fear of what people saw when they looked at me I had a fixed mindset on the fact my life had no purpose. My heart rate at this time had no consistency, my mind was a wandering maze of thoughts, emotion. After a few hours of ignoring texts and phone calls from my mum and me wondering around in a state of panic and confusion I received a message from a friend who I’d known since childhood and who was someone I consider family simply asking if I was okay. Up until that point I felt like the fears and worry about life I was experiencing meant I was alone. When you are in that moment of what feels like isolation from the world, because your view of everything around you is clouded by a thick blanket of mist. It feels like everything is distorted, blurred and flipped as a good day and turn into a bad day the second your eyes open and the sun rises and makes itself known through a gap in the curtains. Even to this day I can find myself waking up and thinking about the bad times and often forget the good in everything. When I can feel it’s gonna be a day dedicated to my anxiety and OCD each little movement, every step I take feels like a marathon. And as I find myself washing my hands for the tenth time that day the logical voice in my head says it’s okay and I’m worrying over nothing, but then it feels like my body is in auto drive as I wash my hands again and again or I carry out one of my many other compulsions. Which for those who live day to day with the effects of OCD can find taking up a large proportion of their life. Some days are better than others and if I can find release in being active or outside of the house I’m usually less likely to seek reassurance in my compulsions. However, this isn’t always the case, because on some days I get to about 1 pm and I just need a nap so that my mind and body have time to rest after hours of the same repetitive actions. I heard someone say once that depression is the most inclusive club in the world. No waiting lists or qualifications to join, however, leaving is another story. See, we all have mental health but sometimes without warning, we can enter into a situation where we can't cope solely on our own to manage the challenges and strains our mental health put in front of us. This is something that as humans we can find unnatural to talk about and open up to those around us. I know from my personal experience, I talk a lot about how I'm feeling but even to this day if I get asked: ”how are you feeling?” I'll reply with ”I’m fine” even when I'm not. Because it's often easier to say nothing is wrong than try to explain why I'm struggling to manage my anxiety. Although I still have bad days, I try to not let them have as much of an effect as they used to! This isn't easy, and every day I have to remind myself that life is a marathon, not a sprint and just to take life as it comes. Please let me know what you think. I am grateful to any feedback or comments. Chandy
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AuthorBrain tumour survivor. Ambassador, campaigner and co-founder of #IFightFor Archives
January 2019
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