Eighteen part one

Depression. The word gets thrown around so much these days that its almost commonplace to know someone with it, or who claims they have it. Ditto anxiety. Having suffered with both for most of my adult life, in fits and starts, I can tell you its not just about feeling a bit sad every now and again. Its not about worrying over an unexpected bill, or because you've had a bad day ; indeed,  its easier to count the good days than the bad. Its so much more than that, and then some.

Many people describe it as " the black dog " .... I always call it my shadow. Except on good, sunny days it disappears and on dark, gloomy, down days it attaches itself to me like a second skin. Wherever I go, its there, reminding me of everything that is wrong in my life. It picks up on small worries like the unpaid bill , exacerbates the larger worries, and every worry inbetween becomes magnified so that my whole life flashes uncomfortably before my eyes , like the end credits of a film, only they aren't the end, just a whole new beginning of sadness, worry, despair and threat.

I had my first experience of an anxiety attack when I was 18 - I vividly remember standing in a shop with my mother and, completely out of the blue, I felt faint. I fiddled with my clothing, took a drink , but that feeling was still there. My heart started pounding so loud I was sure everyone could hear it. Furtively looking round, I began to believe that everyone was looking at me. "Why are they looking at me ? What are they looking at ? Oh my god, they really are looking at me, they're looking at me and wondering why I'm acting like this, wondering why they can hear my heartbeat, staring at the sweat beads appearing on my face, the redness of my cheeks... or is it my clothes ? Are they staring at my clothes ? My face ... its got to be my face. Do they think I'm ugly ? Are they wondering why I'm in this clothes shop when maybe I look like I can't fit in anything here ... Look at them all, so thin, they're obviously laughing at me, trying to fit in these clothes, in this shop ...." And that was when I turned and fled, leaving my poor mother with a bemused look on her face. Standing outside the shop, I took huge breaths of fresh air, concerned about the pins and needles sensations in my finger tips that panicked me further. Was I having a heart attack ? Is there something wrong with me ? The faint fog that had descended on me in the shop began to lift, my breathing dropped back to normal and the pins and needles ceased after a few minutes. I apologized to my mother, said the shop was a little hot and it made me feel a bit faint. But, after that, I had many more episodes. It wasn't until I had a full depressive breakdown at 18 that I understood it was a panic/ anxiety attack.

My late teenage years were difficult. On the outside I was having a ball - out at the pub 4 nights a week, studying for A Levels, part time job, good friends, I should have been unbelievably happy ... but when the friends went home, the pub shut, I finished work for the day and had enough of study , my shadow appeared, and he sucked the happiness from everything. He placed doubts in my mind , made me question everything. These days people chart their lives by social media, twenty years ago it was hour long telephone calls, even letters through the post once parents had ranted about the extortionate phone bills, so you usually ended up learning about events a few days after they'd happened. Inevitably, working and studying meant I couldn't go to every social gathering and, in the beginning , it didn't bother me. Then it seemed I was getting invited to fewer and fewer things, or if I was, I felt like an afterthought. Sometimes I even invited myself and I was sure I saw exchanged glances between them like " really ? She wants to come ?" And now I can understand it.

You see, everyone changes once they've had a drink. Some get happier, some get funnier, some cry, some people don't know when to stop - I was all of those and then some. With alcohol, I was the girl I always wanted to be. This drunk girl was confident, she could flirt, she looked good and she rocked karaoke ... I've never been the most confident person in the world - overweight, National Health glasses , unfashionable hair, unfashionable clothes .... Then I got a part time job, could afford my own clothes, contact lenses, trendy salons .... the girl transformed from the ugly duckling - not into a beautiful swan but an accepted swan nevertheless. And then I discovered alcohol and that made me shine, or so I thought. I was funny, witty , attractive, people chatted to me where before they would barely acknowledge me ... Euphoria is not quite the word but I was so happy to be accepted as one of the cool kids for once ! Once you get that buzz, you never want it to fade. Hence I went out most nights - Friday night and Saturday night , obviously, Sunday for quiz night, Monday for karaoke. Same pub, same people. Friends at last .

But that was fading as well. You see, the invitations stopped appearing when my friends realized I couldn't handle my drink - not that I was throwing up in the street or anything, but I just didn't know when to stop. I would drink like a fish, until sometimes I wouldn't know where I was and someone would have to get me home. Tuesdays and Wednesdays were often spent nursing a weekend hangover, sometimes I'd have a bottle of vodka stowed in my bag for the " hair of the dog " , Thursday night I worked and then Friday would come around again and the cycle would begin again. As I stated though, the invites were disappearing, and I knew I was becoming almost an embarrassment to my friends. My parents started to question why I was sat in on a Monday night ( "Lost all your friends, have you "), then a Sunday night, and , rather than admit the fact I was a failure , I'd start getting dressed up and walk the streets with my headphones on, bottle of vodka in a water bottle. I'd walk for miles. Miles and miles. Then ring for a taxi home. No one knew. No one ever knew. As far as my friends were concerned I was at home, as far as my parents were concerned I was out with my friends. A lot of the time I ended up at a local park, sitting in the dark, drinking, alone .. Looking back that was ridiculously dangerous, it was stupid and , oh my goodness, how sad and pathetic. At the time it was like therapy to me. The stillness of a warm evening, gazing out across the lake, watching the sun dip behind the trees. It was my happy place. Occasionally I met a boy down there - he'd zip around the lake on his bike, stop for a chat, walk me to my "cover " taxi at the end of the night. Although he never knew it , many times he saved my life. My shadow would appear some nights and taunt me towards the lake - a non swimmer, petrified of deep water ,,, " do you know, if you jumped in there , you wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore. Exams, friends, nothing would matter anymore. Its not like anyone would miss you. They don't miss you now, sat here alone ....".

It sounds quite theatrical but it was usually at this point this kid would appear on his bike, wheeling around, cheeky smile. I never knew his name and I don't think he ever knew mine, but it would focus me. We'd sit on the bench, chatting about nothing in particular, until we both had to go. He was a year or two younger than me, but he was wise. I think he knew I was low, I think he knew I had depression even before I did, but it was never mentioned. Instead we listened to music through a headphone each, sometimes we didn't even say anything, then he would kiss my cheek and I'd go home. I do believe in angels and , looking back, I do wonder if someone sent him to look out for me. I've never seen him since I stopped going there, but I will always be grateful to him for stopping the inevitable. He kept the shadow at bay - for a short time at least.