Written By Cassie Brown
Life in my mid-twenties is, generally speaking, pretty great. I’m not married, I have no kids and I don’t own a house – those things might sound negative but it’s exactly where I thought I would be and I love it! I’ve travelled and lived abroad, I’ve got a Master’s degree, a great job, disposable income and I live in London which is always busy and exciting. In fact, I’m probably doing even slightly better than I could have imagined because somehow I’ve managed to bag a great boyfriend too (after years and years of my relatives asking “are you still not courting?”).
As privileged twenty-somethings we also have so much choice and I do spend days wondering if I should pack everything up and go travelling again, or start saving for my future. There’s always some other life you could be living and you’re never going to know what’s for the best. I guess you’ve just got to do the best you can. BUT, that’s not what my post is about. It’s about facing up to my fears. It’s about the black cloud hanging over my head and the tight feeling in my stomach. As lucky as I am, and as much as I really do enjoy my life, I also struggle with feelings of anxiety. I’ve recently admitted this to the people I love, to my place of work and I guess now to anyone who’s reading this. So there you have it.
I have really struggled with accepting that I have these issues because I have always wanted to be seen as a strong, independent, go-getter of a woman. I want to be adventurous, bold and driven but sometimes I don’t feel like I can make it past my front door. I’ve cried on the way to a party, I’ve thrown up because I have to go to a work event, and I’ve cancelled plans to stay in bed when things have gotten to be too much. I get overwhelmed at the thought of being in certain situations and I feel so powerless against the negative thoughts that come storming into my head when I really don’t want them there.
On a day-to-day basis, I get anxious about going to new places (even to the point of worrying if the door is push or pull and I get it wrong), meeting new people (what if I say the wrong thing and everyone hates me), telephone conversations, making decisions, the things I might have done wrong yesterday, social events with more than four people, and don’t even get me started on how much I’m convinced I’m going to be murdered (yes, as a 27 year old, I still check under the bed and in my wardrobe before I go to sleep). Then there’s the terror I feel if, god forbid, I need to go to the doctors, hairdressers, dentist, etc. I usually just end up putting these things off.
It’s completely exhausting. But they do say that a problem shared is a problem halved. And the relief I have felt from openly discussing how I feel has been immense. It hasn’t stopped or lessened my anxiety, but it has allowed me to understand it better and realise I have an amazing support system willing to help me.
I’ve signed up to receive CBT and I’m taking my mental health much more seriously. More than that, I’m starting to learn that I can be both; I can be strong, fierce and independent and also have a mental health problem that I’m dealing with. I’m going to set my own rules and expectations, follow my own path and really just do the best I can. I acknowledge and accept the overwhelming sense of impending doom that I feel and recognise that I need to charge head on into the fear anyway.
I hope that if this post has done one thing it’s to let people know that you really never know what’s going on in someone’s head and we all need to make sure we’re there for the ones we love.
I’ll end with this: the best thing you can do with your life is to tackle the mother fucking shit out of it – Cheryl Strayed
And tackle the mother fucking shit out of it is exactly what I’m going to do.
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