Pssst… Im not ok, and that’s OK.
Today is #timetotalk day – a day where we are encouraged to have conversations about mental health. Therefore if I can’t say it today, when can I?
I’m not OK, and I’m not ashamed to admit it – despite what others may think.
Ask me how I am, an on most days I will answer “I’m fine thank you” – I will smile, laugh a little about the usual lack of sleep, make some vague joke about snoring men and sleep ninja toddlers and shrug off the question with a caviat of being ‘tired” – trying to justify why I look more than little ragged around the edges. I pretend to the world that I have everything under control, that I cope with life’s everyday undulations. Except I’m not fine, and it’s becoming pretty apparent to everyone around me that I am not exactly taking life in my stride.
Yesterday I finally admitted that I cannot solve my health anxiety issues on my own. I thought I had things under control, thought I had found a way to deal with it, but the reality is, I was mostly in denial.
After my first and most severe panic just under 12 months ago (which came completely out of the blue and with no obvious trigger), I thought I’d got a handle on things, found a way of channelling my thoughts and managing my fears – it was working and I thought I’d found a way to cope. But after the events of recent weeks (of course made worse by me googling symptoms and predicting the worst possible outcome), it is clear that my health anxieties are again worse than ever.
Yesterday I made a positive step towards repairing my mental health and booked in for some counselling and CBT sessions which start next week. I’m not gunna lie, I find the thought of sitting and opening up to a total stranger about my thoughts and feelings particularly nerve wracking – a bit like opening a pandora’s box of my irrational concerns whilst he tries to analyse where they have come from and why I feel like I do. There are so many things I will have to admit, have to reveal, and part of it is swallowing my pride and accepting, that despite outwards appearances, some of the shit I have dealt with over the last 5 years actually has scarred me. Despite seemingly getting through it and ‘coping amazingly’ as my friends so kindly put it, the reality is, it was a plaster – a band aid – a temporary mechanism rather than a long term response.
What started as emetophobia (fear of vomit) which started in my teens, my health anxieties have been compounded by a variety of events in recent months and years. I lost my Mum to cancer in 2013 aged just 62. She got ill suddenly and lost her battle quickly and whilst I got to say my goodbyes, the fact those years were taken so prematurely is and pretty much always will be on my mind.
In 2016, I contracted sepsis after Neve was born, losing the ability to walk, spending 5 weeks in hospital and being told that had I gone to bed that night, I most likely wouldn’t have woken up in the morning, and then more recently my melanoma (thankfully caught early) but requiring multiple hospital appointments and a wait to hear how severe the diagnosis was, have bought my fears to the surface once again.
Now even small things are starting to be catastrophised (however again unconsciously – I am not aware that I am worrying) but the anxiety brings with it more physical symptoms – a manifestation of the very thing I fear in the first place. It’s creating a vicious cycle, and it’s hard to break.
I have never had CBT before, and therefore don’t really know what to expect, but will share my experiences on here when I do. I will go in with an open mind and accept that I just need to be honest. Whilst I doubt very much the anxious thoughts will ever go away entirely, I am hoping that I can find a way to channel them that doesn’t impact on my daily life. I will let you know how I get on.
Have any of you had CBT? How did you find it?
