The broken me

FEELING EMPOWERED.

R eflecting back on my last post, I’m feeling strong and determined to put those feelings of “the broken me” behind. An idea given by my mum…I printed the post out, re-read it, took a few deep breaths and lit the four pages and watched it slowly become ash, as I laughed out loud to myself.

I’m ready to let part 1 of my life go. It’s something that I have held on to far too long. I don’t need to keep re-evaluating why I was treated that why, why I put up with it. I acknowledge that stage of my life…young, run down, weak and naive, but also the turning point where I found a tiny speckle of light shining way out into the distance that I wanted to chase.

PART 2:

Let’s re-wind a little, back to where I found that bit of courage and left. I’m back at my parents’ place, a week has passed and I finally feel I can breathe. I felt I was holding my breath, waiting to hear that he had killed himself or find him at my parents’ front door, but none of that happened. This invisible weight that was holding me down, slowly lifted. I felt so light. It was relief. I was free. I didn’t have to check with anyone if I could go shopping or ask if it was okay to see a friend. I had all this freedom and I didn’t know what to do with it. I used to fantasize about seeing him and punching him in the face or just spitting on him, haha, I hated him. I didn’t do any of those things, but let me remind you I have two older brothers and lets just say they handled it!

Siblings! Me, Jason, Lynnette, David- photo taken not long after i had moved back home

i was depressed

I stayed home a lot for the first few months as I was scared I might bump into him, (being from a small town) I was depressed. It would take a great deal of coaxing from my parents or sister to go out and have fun. It was bed time that I dreaded most. Being alone with my thoughts that never switched off. I had trouble falling asleep. When I did, I didn’t sleep for long. I would worry that I would die in my sleep or that something bad would happen if I closed my eyes. Because I wasn’t sleeping, I became irritable. My dog Tyson was my comforter. He just knew when I wasn’t coping- offering silent love and affection. Once my parents found out I wasn’t sleeping, they made an appointment for me to see a doctor. After 5 mins the doctor concluded that I was depressed and anxious, signed a prescription for anti-depressants, just like that. My mum was shocked that they so easily handed over this prescription without any other options of support. She was adamant that I should not take the medication, and instead to see a naturopath. The naturopath also agreed that I was depressed and anxious and I started courses of natural remedies, which offered some relief.

Over time the depression lifted, but the anxiety decided to stay.

My parents had started talking about going away to Europe for 3 months. I began to constantly worrying about being home alone, so they decided to buy tickets for me to join them. It was a gift for my 21st birthday. On that trip I began to self-heal. I learnt new things about myself, I enjoyed getting lost and eating things I’d never tried. I had found that bond again with my parents. .This is when my love for travel began, every year following I would book a trip overseas. I found my favourite place. Malta.

I shed tears writing the above paragraph, not of sad tears, but grateful tears, grateful for all they did and have continued to do, to support me, endless cuddles and smiles of encouragement

2009 was the year I found the power of alcohol. I was 22. I had completed my chef apprenticeship and was finally on decent money. All I wanted to do was party with my friends and have a good time. (Something I had missed whilst in that relationship).
My sister Lynnette and our best friend Eleanor and I moved to Cairns and shared a house together. Those were some of the best times!

Although my anxiety was still present, I was able to hide it most of the time. The girls would want to go out for breakfast or go shopping and I would want to do those things too but I became paranoid that everyone was looking at me and I couldn’t handle busy or crowded places. Shopping malls were the worst. I remember so many times I would just go and sit in the car while they shopped. I didn’t care if they took hours, I just felt safer in the car, away from everyone. Going to a restaurant or cinema, I would always pick seats on the outskirts, somewhere I could see everything and everyone. I’d find the exits and preferably away from strangers. I would get nervous making a phone call, to book a doctor’s appointment for example- I would rehearse what I was going to say a dozen times before I even made the call.

This is Social Anxiety and Compulsive Behaviour.

HANGXIETY....

I absolutely loved getting dressed up, going out to clubs, dancing for hours, but I couldn’t do those things sober. I worked out that if I drank while getting ready, the nerves, the self-consciousness, the crowds or speaking with strangers slowly melted away. I was confident and fun, I made great friends with people I had just met. I preferred that side of myself. Being hungover was a whole new level of anxiety. HANGXIETY….forget about leaving the house, forget about eating, forget about getting out of bed.Sure I was hungover but I was so paranoid that I had done something embarrassing that I refused to leave the house the whole day.

So I drank and I drank a lot- never alone, only in social situations. It became my coping mechanism.

In 2010 Lynnette and I decided to live and work in Malta. My main concern was Tyson. He went to live with my parents. I knew he was very loved there. I loved Malta and found a great job almost straight away, whereas Lynnette didn’t enjoy living there. After a few months, she decided to travel with her new boyfriend around Europe and I stayed in Malta. I would regularly skype mum, dad and Tyson. I made lifelong friends in Malta and would go back in a heartbeat!

I found a new point of independence, living in another country alone, taking public transport (which I would usually avoid at all costs) working in a busy restaurant, where the chefs predominantly spoke Maltese- and I knew only English, so communication was always interesting! Learning to use a different currency, making new friends, even organising gas for the apartment! (I would have to meet a guy in the street that drove a truck with gas bottles, no set time, just had to keep a look out on Thursdays, otherwise no hot water or gas to cook with!)

above: Maltese retro buses, gas truck, fruit & veg truck, Hugo’s Tapaz (restaurant I worked at)

During my time in Malta, I was in “control” of my anxiety,rolls eyes covering it up with excessive use of alcohol and illicit drugs.

It was almost a year of living away that I became homesick, I started calling home more frequently and noticed that Tyson wasn’t in the skype calls. Mum and dad kept saying that he was asleep. I started demanding that they go get him. That’s when they had to tell me that Tyson had been bitten by a paralysis tick. Dad had taken him to the vet, the vet nurse had called them a few hours later saying he was doing better, then called the next morning to say he had died during the night.

I was completely shattered; my parents understandably didn’t know how to tell me. Almost immediately I booked a flight home. When I got home, I was surprisingly okay. Sure I was heartbroken, but mentally stable, no anxiety flare ups. I was just happy to be home.

I stayed with my parents for a few months, then decided to move to Cairns. I had plenty of friends down there and more work opportunities. Being single and 24 and loving life. I Partied 3 – 4 nights a week every week. Reminiscing about my party nights in Malta, I started to mimic my previous bad behaviour and continued to use alcohol and drugs.

My housemate at the time worked away every few weeks. Those weeks he was away, I would have panic attacks about being home alone. I would call my parents, crying in the middle of the night. They lived an hour and a half away, so it wasn’t easy for either of us to commute during the week. If it was the weekend I would unquestionably be at their house. I started thinking there was someone or something in the house. I would turn every light on and stay awake all night, until the sun came up, then sleep for 2 hours, then go to work. I was too embarrassed to ask my friends to stay over or if I could go to theirs. My dad even organised for a priest to come bless my house, as I was certain there was some kind of evil spirit there…(and I still kinda believe there was)

In 2013 I got sick of the endless parties; life became too predictable. I decided I needed a change of scenery. I made a move to Adelaide (where my grandparents, aunt, uncles and cousins lived). I quickly made friends and settled into my new surrounds. Sure I still partied quite a bit, but it was a lot more controlled than when I lived in Cairns or Malta. For the next few years my anxiety only showed up when I was hungover, and I learnt to manage it.

My “freeze” moment- I didn’t fight or flee, this time I froze.

One afternoon driving home from work, I was exhausted from a busy breakfast shift. I was also hungover from the night before. I was stopped at the traffic lights when I started to panic. There were traffic all around me. No-one was moving. I was claustrophobic. I started to experience my first full blown panic attack. For anyone who has experienced a panic attack will tell you, it’s extremely frightening. I began to sweat profusely. I could feel the thudding of my heart. My hands started shaking then finally the lights turn green. I cross the busy intersection and my hands started to go numb so I quickly pulled over. I turned the ignition off and tried to catch my breath. I called my two housemates who were home. I told them I needed them to help me. Even though they left right away, it felt like forever till they arrived. It took them 15min to get to me. By then both my hands had started cramping and twisting in towards themselves. I was in full panic. I had no idea what was wrong with them and just looking at my hands caused me to panic even more.By the time we reached home, my hands were completely numb. The tingling feeling spread to my arms, my face, my teeth and my legs. My friends had to help me walk from the car to my bed.

I thought I was having a heart attack. I called mum, who is a nurse and explained what had happened. She reassured me these were signs of sever panic attack and that the symptoms I was showing was a combination of being dehydrated from drinking the night before and hyperventilating. I needed to take slower breaths to calm myself. Within 20mins the symptoms subsided. I was left feeling drained and scared that it would happen again.

I had to curb the partying lifestyle down. No partying on a work night became my new rule. I knew that these panic attacks would continue if I didn’t look after myself better.