'Whats wrong with me?'
Hi!
In this blog post, I mentioned at the beginning that I haven't been very well, mentally, and that when I've finally gain the confidence to write about it I would, so thats what I'm doing.
I've had anxiety and been dealing with panic attacks for about 3 years now. I was going along, having a panic attack, recovering from the panic attack and then moving on with my life. This cycle would repeat itself maybe 4 times a week. I just brushed them off as something that was happening to me, that would always happen to me, and that I just had to learn to deal with. I wasn't happy with this outcome, but I sort of accepted it for what it was, I never had the mindset that it would stop or I could learn to control it. I would have a panic attack and think 'god that was horrible, anyway' and then get on to whatever I was previously doing. Not taking the time to think about my panic attacks and what was causing them was doing me serious harm, resulting in them happening more often. Because I didn't know what was triggering them, I never knew when they were going to happen, which meant that I wouldn't go out in fear of experiencing something that would make me panic.
This went on until August 2015. I was on holiday with my family in our villa, I was having a perfectly nice time, however I was starting to panic majorly about going to sixth form and if I would get the grades to go, and if I didn't go to the sixth form I wanted how was I going to apply to another one because I wasn't in the country, and that I'd end up in no sixth form and that'd mean I was useless and I've failed at life. All of these negative 'what if' thoughts were churning around in my head for days, making it impossible to relax. To try and block out the thoughts I started reading a book called 'All the bright places'. In hind sight maybe wasn't my best choice of books. I'm not going to go into the plot of the book but basically one of the main characters drowns himself.
He says in the book how he wanted to get peace, and thats exactly what I wanted. I didn't want all these crazy thoughts running around in my head. I didn't want to find out my GCSE results. I didn't want to go home from holiday. I basically didn't want to face the outside world ever again and because I had never sought for help with my anxiety, I didn't know how to quell the unhelpful brain noise that was going on in my head, the only way I could think for making it all stop was to kill myself. So I got in the pool when the rest of my family were in the villa and submerged myself under water and stayed there.
It's weird when you're in that situation, because the pain of not needing to breathe wasn't being recognised by my brain, I was drifting off into a happy unconsciousness and I felt brilliant. Completly and utterly brilliant. I'd never have to deal with anything ever again, no school, no sixth form, no expectations. I could just be at peace.
Obviously I didn't get very far with my plan as I'm sat here writing this now. My sister had seen me in the pool and I can only presume she wondered why I hadn't come up for air yet, she jumped in and swam over to me with a snorkel on, and started nudging me. I hadn't been under long enough for me to be completely unconscious so I could see her face, and because she had a snorkel on she could see me and I decided that I couldn't put her through the horror of watching someone die at such a young age. If she was older, I may have been completely selfish and not come up for air. But at the time she was 11, and I didn't want to traumatise her, not when she was starting a new school in the autumn.
So I came out from under the water, and she didn't think anything of it. My parents didn't notice so I didn't mention it. I just decided that I wouldn't think about that again until I needed too. I put the thoughts in a box and decided to think about my holiday and my family and block the rest of the world out. When results day came I got a great set of results and got into the sixth form of my choice. My anxieties had momentarily stopped because I was so excited to start sixth form and carry on with my life.
So thats what I did. I started sixth form and the panic came back. I had numerous amounts of panic attacks at school, but then they started happening at home which was unusual for me. Everything was getting on top of me and I just couldn't cope anymore and at the beginning of October, I broke.
It was my mothers birthday on the Sunday, and I was trying to get all of my work finished on Saturday so I had time to go out and celebrate with them all. I was photoshopping a photograph for photography and it wasn't turning out the way I thought in my head and I started to get frustrated. I had a mammoth amount of coursework to get through and I couldn't see me being able to go out with my family. So then I started to feel guilty, why is school demanding so much of my time? Why did it take me so long to finish my work? Why am I such a failure? And I just broke, completely broke down.
After my parents talked me down from my frenzy, I was okay and managed to finish the work. But that was when the seed of doubt was planted in my head. Later that day I decided to kill myself.
My doctor had given me beta blockers for my anxiety. They slow your heart rate down so that you can handle the panic. I thought that if I took a few it would eventually stop my heart. So while I was in the shower I was planning my suicide note, writing it out in my head. I went from my bathroom to my school bag where I kept my tablets and sat down on my bed and starred at them. I was starting to feel guilty at the prospect of leaving my parents and my sister. We'd already had two deaths in the family that year and I didn't know if I could handle doing that to them. Then I thought about my sister and how she might find the body as she sometimes wakes me up in the morning, and how awful that would be for her.
So I wrote down on a piece of paper that I thought about killing myself and gave it to my mother, then I also wrote down that I attempted to kill myself on holiday. Obviously she was shocked, she then went and told my father and they said they were going to get me help, and that I should stay off school for a while.
I got an appointment with my GP, and honestly he was so lovely. He referred me to a therapist and I had a consultation with her in a couple of weeks time. Then I went to the school and had a meeting with the head of my sixth form, she was very co-operative and let me drop one of my A-levels. I was off school for about a week, and then I went back. Looking back on it I shouldn't have gone back to school so quickly, I clearly wasn't ready as a couple of weeks later I had another crying attack.
I had gone to see my therapist and she was helping massively, but in the beginning I wasn't being as honest as I should have been. When I had the second meltdown I was alone as the rest of my family were at my sisters dance competition so there wasn't anyone to help me calm down. I didn't know what to do, I wanted to kill myself but the same guilt as before was still in my mind. So I went on the internet and booked a ticket to Spain. I didn't know what this was going to achieve but I just wanted a break from everything for a while. But as I was thinking about what to pack my mother rang me and I told her how awful I felt and we decided it would be best for me to stay off school for a little while longer.
So I didn't go back in. I stayed off school for about two weeks. In this time my mom went up to the school to discuss what I would do when I came back. My mother and the head of sixth form decided I should only come in for one subject, and then gradually work up the courage to do two subjects and then eventually stay for all three of my subjects. So I went to school for just my photography lessons, which was great, I was really enjoying just focusing on one subject and photography was the lesson that I felt the most at ease in so the anxiety and the panic I was experiencing when I went to school wasn't as server as it had been. I was doing well and I thought I'd be able to eventually go back to school like a normal person.
However after a week of going in just for photography my mother got a phone call off a teacher that was running a trip to New York, which I was going on. He told my mom that because of my panic attacks I wouldn't be able to go on the trip. So my mother played nice to him on the phone and then asked my what I wanted to do. Naturally I was mortified. I was being told I couldn't go on a trip because I had been unwell. It was a major setback for me because I was aiming on getting better and the trip to New York was a like a goal for me. It was something motivating me to go to therapy, to get better for my friends and for myself. And just for coming out and asking for help, I get punished.
Not only did this teacher discriminate against me because, and this is a quote from him 'I don't want to deal with Ashleigh if she has a panic attack' (I am still in shock that he said that), he also bare face lied to my parents, lied to his own members of staff, and then proceeded to make up rubbish as to why I couldn't go. He also then decided that he wouldn't refund my parents the £1250 they payed for me to go. I'm not going to go into what was said, but it was downright rude, and hurtful. He made my feel weak, like I was a burden and like I was some child that would ruin his trip. Also he read confidential documents about me, and gave the documents to other members of staff. Not one thing that came out of his mouth was respectful, he also didn't even know who I was. Even though I actually had a panic attack in his lesson. Even when he was talking to my parents he still didnt even bother to check what child I was, he came out with a cracking line, which still makes me laugh to this day. Obviously I was on holiday on results day, so he emailed my dad my results. He then said to my parents when they had a meeting about me that he remembers my 'little face smiling' when I got my results. My dad then said to him (and I did give my dad a high five for this) 'you must have brilliant eye sight to see all the way to Spain'. The look on the cocky bastards face was the best thing I've ever seen in my life.
After being treated with such contempt and discrimination I decided that I should leave the school. I couldn't deal with seeing that teacher every day and thats not the type of environment I wanted to be in.
As it turned out by January 25th I had finished therapy. I wasn't cured, but I now have an arsenal of techniques and skills to be able to calm myself down from a panic attack. And I've only had one since I stopped therapy. Which is incredible as I was having at least 3 a week before I started therapy. I'm now much happier, I'm in the interview process for two apprenticeships and am taking driving lessons. I'm a much more positive person and I think the whole experience with that particular teacher has made me stronger, and has motivated me more towards beating my anxiety for good and to help other people that face the type of discrimination I did.
Also my dad being my dad got all of the money back off the school and we decided as a big F**k you to that teacher we would fly out to New York for a week and do the trip 10x better than what they had planned. And I can honestly say we had an amazing time, and while in Macy's I found that teacher, he asked me what I was doing in New York and I remained calm and answered just wanted a holiday, we had a civil chat and then he went off. I then got a message later that day of one of my friends saying that he asked her who I was. Clearly some people never learn!
The reason for this whole blog post was for me to tell you in a very long winded way that even if you are at rock bottom and have been when I was then their is a way out. And there is always help.
Hope you're having a good day, and I'll probably be back with my pictures from New York!
Cheerio!
In this blog post, I mentioned at the beginning that I haven't been very well, mentally, and that when I've finally gain the confidence to write about it I would, so thats what I'm doing.
I've had anxiety and been dealing with panic attacks for about 3 years now. I was going along, having a panic attack, recovering from the panic attack and then moving on with my life. This cycle would repeat itself maybe 4 times a week. I just brushed them off as something that was happening to me, that would always happen to me, and that I just had to learn to deal with. I wasn't happy with this outcome, but I sort of accepted it for what it was, I never had the mindset that it would stop or I could learn to control it. I would have a panic attack and think 'god that was horrible, anyway' and then get on to whatever I was previously doing. Not taking the time to think about my panic attacks and what was causing them was doing me serious harm, resulting in them happening more often. Because I didn't know what was triggering them, I never knew when they were going to happen, which meant that I wouldn't go out in fear of experiencing something that would make me panic.
This went on until August 2015. I was on holiday with my family in our villa, I was having a perfectly nice time, however I was starting to panic majorly about going to sixth form and if I would get the grades to go, and if I didn't go to the sixth form I wanted how was I going to apply to another one because I wasn't in the country, and that I'd end up in no sixth form and that'd mean I was useless and I've failed at life. All of these negative 'what if' thoughts were churning around in my head for days, making it impossible to relax. To try and block out the thoughts I started reading a book called 'All the bright places'. In hind sight maybe wasn't my best choice of books. I'm not going to go into the plot of the book but basically one of the main characters drowns himself.
He says in the book how he wanted to get peace, and thats exactly what I wanted. I didn't want all these crazy thoughts running around in my head. I didn't want to find out my GCSE results. I didn't want to go home from holiday. I basically didn't want to face the outside world ever again and because I had never sought for help with my anxiety, I didn't know how to quell the unhelpful brain noise that was going on in my head, the only way I could think for making it all stop was to kill myself. So I got in the pool when the rest of my family were in the villa and submerged myself under water and stayed there.
It's weird when you're in that situation, because the pain of not needing to breathe wasn't being recognised by my brain, I was drifting off into a happy unconsciousness and I felt brilliant. Completly and utterly brilliant. I'd never have to deal with anything ever again, no school, no sixth form, no expectations. I could just be at peace.
Obviously I didn't get very far with my plan as I'm sat here writing this now. My sister had seen me in the pool and I can only presume she wondered why I hadn't come up for air yet, she jumped in and swam over to me with a snorkel on, and started nudging me. I hadn't been under long enough for me to be completely unconscious so I could see her face, and because she had a snorkel on she could see me and I decided that I couldn't put her through the horror of watching someone die at such a young age. If she was older, I may have been completely selfish and not come up for air. But at the time she was 11, and I didn't want to traumatise her, not when she was starting a new school in the autumn.
So I came out from under the water, and she didn't think anything of it. My parents didn't notice so I didn't mention it. I just decided that I wouldn't think about that again until I needed too. I put the thoughts in a box and decided to think about my holiday and my family and block the rest of the world out. When results day came I got a great set of results and got into the sixth form of my choice. My anxieties had momentarily stopped because I was so excited to start sixth form and carry on with my life.
So thats what I did. I started sixth form and the panic came back. I had numerous amounts of panic attacks at school, but then they started happening at home which was unusual for me. Everything was getting on top of me and I just couldn't cope anymore and at the beginning of October, I broke.
It was my mothers birthday on the Sunday, and I was trying to get all of my work finished on Saturday so I had time to go out and celebrate with them all. I was photoshopping a photograph for photography and it wasn't turning out the way I thought in my head and I started to get frustrated. I had a mammoth amount of coursework to get through and I couldn't see me being able to go out with my family. So then I started to feel guilty, why is school demanding so much of my time? Why did it take me so long to finish my work? Why am I such a failure? And I just broke, completely broke down.
After my parents talked me down from my frenzy, I was okay and managed to finish the work. But that was when the seed of doubt was planted in my head. Later that day I decided to kill myself.
My doctor had given me beta blockers for my anxiety. They slow your heart rate down so that you can handle the panic. I thought that if I took a few it would eventually stop my heart. So while I was in the shower I was planning my suicide note, writing it out in my head. I went from my bathroom to my school bag where I kept my tablets and sat down on my bed and starred at them. I was starting to feel guilty at the prospect of leaving my parents and my sister. We'd already had two deaths in the family that year and I didn't know if I could handle doing that to them. Then I thought about my sister and how she might find the body as she sometimes wakes me up in the morning, and how awful that would be for her.
So I wrote down on a piece of paper that I thought about killing myself and gave it to my mother, then I also wrote down that I attempted to kill myself on holiday. Obviously she was shocked, she then went and told my father and they said they were going to get me help, and that I should stay off school for a while.
I got an appointment with my GP, and honestly he was so lovely. He referred me to a therapist and I had a consultation with her in a couple of weeks time. Then I went to the school and had a meeting with the head of my sixth form, she was very co-operative and let me drop one of my A-levels. I was off school for about a week, and then I went back. Looking back on it I shouldn't have gone back to school so quickly, I clearly wasn't ready as a couple of weeks later I had another crying attack.
I had gone to see my therapist and she was helping massively, but in the beginning I wasn't being as honest as I should have been. When I had the second meltdown I was alone as the rest of my family were at my sisters dance competition so there wasn't anyone to help me calm down. I didn't know what to do, I wanted to kill myself but the same guilt as before was still in my mind. So I went on the internet and booked a ticket to Spain. I didn't know what this was going to achieve but I just wanted a break from everything for a while. But as I was thinking about what to pack my mother rang me and I told her how awful I felt and we decided it would be best for me to stay off school for a little while longer.
So I didn't go back in. I stayed off school for about two weeks. In this time my mom went up to the school to discuss what I would do when I came back. My mother and the head of sixth form decided I should only come in for one subject, and then gradually work up the courage to do two subjects and then eventually stay for all three of my subjects. So I went to school for just my photography lessons, which was great, I was really enjoying just focusing on one subject and photography was the lesson that I felt the most at ease in so the anxiety and the panic I was experiencing when I went to school wasn't as server as it had been. I was doing well and I thought I'd be able to eventually go back to school like a normal person.
However after a week of going in just for photography my mother got a phone call off a teacher that was running a trip to New York, which I was going on. He told my mom that because of my panic attacks I wouldn't be able to go on the trip. So my mother played nice to him on the phone and then asked my what I wanted to do. Naturally I was mortified. I was being told I couldn't go on a trip because I had been unwell. It was a major setback for me because I was aiming on getting better and the trip to New York was a like a goal for me. It was something motivating me to go to therapy, to get better for my friends and for myself. And just for coming out and asking for help, I get punished.
Not only did this teacher discriminate against me because, and this is a quote from him 'I don't want to deal with Ashleigh if she has a panic attack' (I am still in shock that he said that), he also bare face lied to my parents, lied to his own members of staff, and then proceeded to make up rubbish as to why I couldn't go. He also then decided that he wouldn't refund my parents the £1250 they payed for me to go. I'm not going to go into what was said, but it was downright rude, and hurtful. He made my feel weak, like I was a burden and like I was some child that would ruin his trip. Also he read confidential documents about me, and gave the documents to other members of staff. Not one thing that came out of his mouth was respectful, he also didn't even know who I was. Even though I actually had a panic attack in his lesson. Even when he was talking to my parents he still didnt even bother to check what child I was, he came out with a cracking line, which still makes me laugh to this day. Obviously I was on holiday on results day, so he emailed my dad my results. He then said to my parents when they had a meeting about me that he remembers my 'little face smiling' when I got my results. My dad then said to him (and I did give my dad a high five for this) 'you must have brilliant eye sight to see all the way to Spain'. The look on the cocky bastards face was the best thing I've ever seen in my life.
After being treated with such contempt and discrimination I decided that I should leave the school. I couldn't deal with seeing that teacher every day and thats not the type of environment I wanted to be in.
As it turned out by January 25th I had finished therapy. I wasn't cured, but I now have an arsenal of techniques and skills to be able to calm myself down from a panic attack. And I've only had one since I stopped therapy. Which is incredible as I was having at least 3 a week before I started therapy. I'm now much happier, I'm in the interview process for two apprenticeships and am taking driving lessons. I'm a much more positive person and I think the whole experience with that particular teacher has made me stronger, and has motivated me more towards beating my anxiety for good and to help other people that face the type of discrimination I did.
Also my dad being my dad got all of the money back off the school and we decided as a big F**k you to that teacher we would fly out to New York for a week and do the trip 10x better than what they had planned. And I can honestly say we had an amazing time, and while in Macy's I found that teacher, he asked me what I was doing in New York and I remained calm and answered just wanted a holiday, we had a civil chat and then he went off. I then got a message later that day of one of my friends saying that he asked her who I was. Clearly some people never learn!
The reason for this whole blog post was for me to tell you in a very long winded way that even if you are at rock bottom and have been when I was then their is a way out. And there is always help.
Hope you're having a good day, and I'll probably be back with my pictures from New York!
Cheerio!
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