Me, Myself and My Anxiety

Prior to Lent term this year I'd had three panic attacks in my entire life and all of them were fairly minor - I stepped outside and knew that it would be over in a few minutes, so never took the time to think about them or why they happened. Coming back to Cambridge after Christmas this all changed rather suddenly: my panic attacks went from lightweight occasional occurrences to regular severe episodes. But this didn't make any sense, I had no extra commitments this term and no extra stress, so where was this increased anxiety coming from? Other than the anxiety itself there was nothing that anyone could mention that would trigger the anxiety: my only new anxiety was about my anxiety. Just my luck.

I am very lucky in the way that my anxiety doesn't largely impact my day-to-day life. The best way I can describe it is everything is fine until it isn't. There is no large build-up to my anxiety attacks - about ten minutes of anxiety then a further fifteen to thirty for the actual episode (I swear I'm not scheduling them like '30 minutes reading, 20 minutes anxiety'). Afterwards I'll be tired and emotionally drained but re-balanced enough to operate as my normal self again. An attack feels like the atmosphere around me becomes thicker and presses in on me. Whatever I'm thinking about, no matter how serious or trivial, seems inescapable at that moment. This is what makes anxiety such a lonely mental space; the rest of the world seems kind of unreal  in these times of pure panic, one or two thoughts are all I can focus on and the worries attached to these thoughts are completely unrealistic so I experience detachment. I'm lucky again in the fact that I have wonderful friends who regardless of what time it is, will speak to me either in person or through messenger to pull me back into a state of control - you're the best guys.

When these things started happening to me I was hesitant to diagnose them as symptoms of anxiety because compared to severe anxiety disorders, what I was experiencing seemed negligible. But what I failed to understand is that anxiety is a spectrum - it manifests to different degrees of severity in different ways for every sufferer. Leading up to exam season everyone is likely to feel anxious to some degree, but if you're experiencing sudden intense bursts or anything that is negatively affecting your ability to live day-to-day life, then maybe do some research on anxiety. It isn't just a quirk of Cambridge students or something you should just expect to occur at some point. Even though it is common, it is not inevitable and therefore should not be treated as a given or trivialised in any way. I don't believe there is a threshold for when feeling anxious becomes anxiety - if you personally feel like you're experiencing abnormal or damaging levels of anxiety then you are, nobody can deny you that experience so don't be afraid to name it.

Even though the world is a scary, anxiety-producing place, try to stay brave because (for want of a better simile) anxiety, particularly attacks, are a bit like the Cindies queue: it's dark, miserable, you're not sure how you got there or how long it'll last, but you're surrounded by pals and once you're past it you're going to have the best time.

If anyone wants to ask me any questions or has any comments then please feel more than welcome to message me or drop me an email: leanne.walstow@hotmail.co.uk

Scared of Commitment? Bullshit.

I'm willing to bet that we've all either received or given an excuse for walking away from something that has centred around commitment: ‘I'm not ready to commit’, ‘I'm scared of commitment’, ‘I need commitment’, ‘what’s even the point in commitment?’ And this isn't just with relationships. It’s with plans, jobs and even (as I know all too well) dissertation topics. At our age I think commitment is something we simultaneously crave and flee from. It’s a difficult relationship and it’s about time we acknowledged the truth of it: we’re all ‘scared’ of commitment, but we all secretly know that when we say this, we’re bullshitting.

Declaring yourself as scared of commitment is such a tired trope. Perhaps that’s why we meet this phrase with outrage rather than pity, with an eye roll rather than a hug. It’s become so common that rather than a genuine fear, it’s just a part of the character of our age group. It’s a fear we all have, same as being scared that we’ll never be able to afford to own our own house – but I can’t see people giving up on this pipe-dream because they’re afraid. You have to realise that having a fear of commitment does not make you special – you’re not a free spirit, or a damaged yet charming fixer-upper, and you are not a lone wolf. You’re like the rest of us trying desperately to figure out if commitment is a question or an answer.

I think to solve the commitment conundrum we have to ask ourselves what we’re actually scared of, because it’s not the commitment itself; it’s what might result from it. Unfortunately these realities do not make the inoffensive sounding excuses what we might hope for. I don’t want to commit because: I think you’ll trap me, there might be someone better, I suspect you’ll turn out to be a dick, I'm still into my ex – none of these are particularly comfortable things to acknowledge because they’re the things we are genuinely scared of.

Being scared of these things is okay, not wanting commitment is fine and wanting to be on your own is also completely understandable. But for the sake of everyone’s sanity, explain these things and the reasons why, rather than playing the get-out of-jail-free card of ‘commitment fear’. We’re all scared of things we associate with commitment. So rather than using it as an alienating shield maybe try and think of it as the opposite: something in common.