My Journey With Mental Health So Far

One day, on a quiet afternoon, I was sat in the living room with the TV off. I had been watching something on Netflix earlier, but wasn’t really in the mood for whatever show it was, so I was now trying to have a nap. Trying and failing. I had so many thoughts bouncing around my head that I just couldn’t relax. And then, out of nowhere, I felt an unusual tightness in my chest accompanied by an overwhelming feeling of anxiety. Within seconds, I was struggling to breathe, and my heart was racing. Within minutes, my head started to hurt. As the symptoms got worse and I struggled to understand what was going on, I was hit with an intense feeling of fear and dread. I tried staying calm, going through my breathing exercises to relax myself. I thought the fear was something I could think my way out of. I usually can, but I quickly realised this wasn’t going to be that easy. I tried calling for help, but the words wouldn’t come out. I felt confused, alone, and terrified. This lasted for about 10 minutes, and then suddenly, it stopped. My breathing went back to normal, my headache subsided, and I wasn’t so afraid any more. I was still confused, but not in the same way I was a second before. Now, I was thinking very clearly again and trying to figure out what that was all about. I would later realise I had just had my first ever panic attack.

That was 4 years ago, and unfortunately, not for the last time.

At the time, two major things were causing me a lot of stress and anxiety. One of them I would rather not talk about just yet, but the other was my care and staffing, as I’d been having issues with recruiting and retaining suitable carers. I don’t know why, but not having the right staff or enough staff to help with my day-to-day needs has always triggered an intense sense of worry in me. It still does today, but thankfully, I have a much more stable setup with amazing people around me as I type this. And honestly, it doesn’t really matter what exactly caused my anxiety. Because the specific things I had on my mind then were just the triggers that set me off at that moment. The truth is, I hadn’t really been taking care of my mental health for years at that point, and something was bound to make the pressure cooker pop eventually. I was offered mental health support in the hospital when I first got injured, but I declined it, believing it would only make things worse if I recounted and relived my trauma in the name of “therapy”, which I had no assurance would actually help. Plus, very early in my journey, I had been heavily scarred by seeing the pain and chaos caused by showing what was on my mind to those whom I loved the most. The people I was most comfortable opening up to, my family, would almost always break down whenever I opened up about what I was experiencing. In hindsight, I can fully understand that the accident and my subsequent injury were still very raw in everyone’s minds, and there was a lot of “shock” still in the air. But at the time, it simply felt like bad things happened when I said how I felt. It made me bottle up my emotions for far too long. It wasn’t until I had a few unplanned conversations where I let my guard down, spoke about how I was feeling and got some very positive, supportive and honest responses that I began to see the benefits of talking about my situation. I realised talking about everything actually made me feel better, but I now had no clue how to speak about them in a controlled, safe and healthy way. That was honestly one of the driving factors behind me starting this blog and eventually embracing disability awareness as “my purpose”. Telling all of you what my life is like has always been highly therapeutic and probably one of the best decisions I’ve made in this journey. But honestly, it wasn’t enough. Talking about my feelings and experiences on such a public platform also means that I can’t share everything for a number of reasons. The obvious being the need to keep my personal life personal, but also the impact of what I write on the people who read. I am only comfortable talking about a problem if I can offer a solution or some path towards one. I can only highlight the reality of living with a disability like mine if I can articulate some sort of lesson to be learned, either to people in situations like mine or people who need the awareness. If all I have are raw, negative emotions and thoughts to share with no way of bringing out some positivity, calm and closure to the people kind enough to read what I write, I would rather not write it at all. I’m here to spread awareness and find solutions, not chaos and pain. But for a good while, writing here was the only way I actually reflected on and addressed a lot of what was in my head.

So, massive chunks of my mental health journey were left untouched, bottled up and festering for too long, until they eventually boiled over and the mental became physical. Something that could have manifested in a much worse way if one or two things were a little different. I’m lucky I had a minor panic attack (even though it felt far worse at the time) in my own home, where I wasn’t all by myself. I’m lucky it didn’t happen somewhere it could have put me in harm’s way. And I’m lucky it was just a panic attack and not something else that I might have been far less equipped to recover from.

That said, once I had had that experience, it seemed to happen more easily the next time and every time after that. It took resolving the parts of my life that were causing me stress to make the attacks stop. And that was the first time I sought out professional help. I would hit many bumps in the road while trying to find a trained ear to talk to and even put my search on hold for a time, which inevitably made things worse. I’m happy to say I’m in a much more stable place right now, not because there are no longer any anxiety-inducing triggers or stress factors, but because I am far more aware of my situation. Everything from a better understanding of my strengths and limitations, to having a much more open mind about what I might be going through and how some solutions may have to come from outside the box. The journey isn’t over, and I still have a long way to go before I can comfortably say I am confident about the strength of my mental health. But at least now, I have avenues to explore if I ever find myself needing support. I won’t be as stunned and confused as I was that first day I had a panic attack. I may not have the answers immediately after the questions come up, but I have accepted that it’s okay if there are questions in the first place, and there are places and people I can approach to at least put me on the right path to finding some answers.

I’m in a good place. A place I wouldn’t have been if I hadn’t started taking better care of myself. But I really wish I didn’t need to experience some of the things I have in order to put me on the right track to start taking that care. Don’t do it the way I did. Have you ever considered how small negative experiences, people, places, and other factors might be affecting you in the long run? I’m not here to question anyone’s resilience. But if you are indeed in a good enough place to not need to worry about your mental health, then the question can do you no harm. But please, for the love of all things good, do not wait to be caught off guard. You might not be as prepared as you think. And if you are aware you might need to find some solutions to anything relating to your mental health, please talk to someone. Take a step towards getting out of the hole before it gets too deep.

This hasn’t been one of my lighter or more positive posts, but it is essential not to let these things lie. They never sort themselves out. They only get worse until you are forced to face them. Let’s all give ourselves the best chances to face these things and come out on top.

Till next time, stay blessed.