Anxious

I use this image a lot. It seems fitting.

Sorry - this isn't going to be a nice, cheery Sunday afternoon read.

I've been anxious recently. No - I can't put it in the past tense like that - I am anxious, a lot of the time, at the moment. I hope it's just a phase. I hope to God it's a shorter phase than it was a few years ago; a phase that's easier on me, less violent than it was then. I was not all that well then - I know that from looking back - and few things scare me more than returning to those sleepless nights, those days of heart-racing and room-pacing.

You're wired when you're anxious. Drained but still buzzing somehow, humming away with what-ifs and but-maybes and "this time, I will definitely die". It's exhausting and you cannot outrun it. That's the worst part: being a prisoner of your own mind and being unable to trust your own body. Because you can't climb out of your head; you can't lift your brain out, put it on a windowsill and tell it to calm down. And you can't trust a body that insists that you stay in fight-or-flight mode when there is nothing there to fight or flee.

What helps? No-one has the time to feel like this, to be exhausted by something so un-useful, so how do I manage it? It will always be a part of me, I think - an undercurrent, a messy gatecrasher - how do I keep it away? At the time of writing, the only failsafe solution has been to throw myself onto DB's lap and have him stroke my hair until I felt able to sit by myself without needing another human as an anchor. And unfortunately - comfortable though he is - I need a better strategy.

Doctors recommend cutting caffeine and alcohol, and exercising regularly. The latter isn't a problem (I can run now! I have an app and one of those armband phone holder things!), the former I find harder. Keeping busy is the only thing that's ever worked reliably for me - work, running, writing, seeing friends, living by to-do lists. But getting too tired can also be a trigger, and not having any time on my own to just faff, and "be", also sends me crackers, so it's a fine line.

I wrote most of the above just over a week ago, and since then, have calmed down a bit, thank goodness. I'm posting it anyway, because suffering in silence has only ever made things worse. For everyone.

Advice I’m not qualified to give, but am giving anyway

Or, "stuff I wish I'd known sooner - not that I would have listened, in the event of actually being told".

My sister officially became a teenager last Sunday. I say "officially" - emotionally, she's been one for about the last four months. It's come as quite a shock to my mother: "she doesn't talk to me anymore, and she goes off in strops all the time. She's turning into you". Thanks, Mum*. And welcome back to the world of teenage girls. I suggest you buckle up.

*To be fair to our mother, I was a horrible teenager. I still am a lot of the time sometimes, at the age of 23.

I recently read a piece by one of my favourite writers, Daisy Buchanan (to the book geeks, yes, that is her actual name), that made me go "Aww!" It's an open letter and commencement address to her younger sister, who's about our age and has just graduated. Click here, if you're interested. And, in the absence of anything more pressing to write about, I thought I'd do my own, but for my much younger sister. So here's a handful of useful nuggets I have found to be, well, nothing but useful. I'll try and keep it as unpretentious as possible, but you know what I'm like; that won't be easy. I'll give it a go.

So then...

1) Work hard at school. There's no shame in being the diligent, conscientious one. Figure out the things you like and are good at, and get better at them. It really does make life so much easier, both now and later on.

2) Read. Read loads. You'll never be lonely again (well, almost). Getting totally emotionally involved in a story is an unrivalled joy. You'll never be stuck for something to talk about, and you'll pick up all kinds of information - you'll end up like Stephen Fry, basically. It also improves your spelling and grammar with zero effort - the more you read, the more you get to know when a word or sentence looks wrong. Which, while it isn't the most important character trait, does make you a lot less annoying to get e-mails from.

3) Get a part-time job as soon as you possibly can. It will do you the world of good, even if you're pretty ace already. It's the fastest and most effective way to become more responsible and a good team-player (guess who's spent too much time on recruitment sites recently. Eurgh). And, if you're earning your own money, no one can tell you what to do with it - because it's YOURS and YOURS ALONE.

4) Ignore magazines, and indeed anything or anyone that tries to tell you how you should look, or that you should be thinner. (Such as Mum. Please don't follow her example. Please.) The overwhelming majority of diets don't work, so just kind of pay attention to your body - it's quite good at telling you what you need. Unfortunately, a large part of the rest of the world doesn't quite seem to trust women to know what to do with their own bodies just yet, so it's up to you to tell them to bugger off and mind their own damn business.

5) Experiment with your looks. The time will soon come when you have to look like everybody else, and while you've still got the "teen" suffix in your age, it is not that time. Put bright blue streaks in your hair (maybe wait until sixth form to do this, I know what your school's uniform policy is like: militant), try out flicky black eyeliner or neon pink lipstick. Make-up is a good thing - unless you apply it with a tablespoon. It can cover things you don't like and enhance the things you do like. Have fun with it, it's cheaper than clothes.

6) Fancy someone you shouldn't. In a legal sort of way, I mean. One of those boys who thinks they are God's gift to women - you know the type. They’re not, so get this out the way early in life and you’ll save yourself a metric shitload of drama. Then find someone who’s kind (this is underrated, and shouldn’t be) and who thinks you’re wonderful. And makes you laugh til you yelp like a seal in distress. Yes, you can vomit. But it’s important.
     6b) You don’t have to have a boyfriend, either. (Or girlfriend, for that matter.) I didn’t have a proper relationship until I was nineteen, which was... fine. I didn’t absolutely love being the only person in my friendship group who was single, and it can feel especially bad when your best friend gets a guy and suddenly she’s not around half as much, but you’ll do the same thing one day. Plus, relationships are bloody hard work at times - factoring a whole other human being into your everyday life can sometimes be a case of moving from one uneasy truce to the next. You can quote me on that, it's probably the truest thing I'll say for a long time.
     And the majority of relationships that start before university/the age of 20 do NOT last. A rare few do, BUT MOST REALLY, REALLY DON’T. I cannot emphasise that enough, you're just going to have to trust me on it. You might get to your A-levels, look at a couple you know and think, “They’re going to be together forever, and get married and have babies”. Give it two years, love…

7) Learn that being cool is a myth. Or rather, the coolest people are the ones who just do their own thing, like what they like and stand by their opinions, even if those opinions aren't popular.

8) Stay in touch with friends who move away. Take it from someone who is God-awful at doing this. Even if you just drop them the odd Facebook message, it still helps. It's never anything but lovely when you hear from someone you haven't spoken to for ages: "Oh! They were thinking of me? Well, that's made my week".

9) Be nice. Polite. Kind. You know, not a dick. If you find yourself in, say, a shouty situation, or a serious personal disagreement, and manage not to make it worse, then it's a start. Being able to walk away with a clear conscience gives you one less thing to worry about.

10) I've saved the best two things for last, you'll see:
     10a) Always, always, ALWAYS send hand-written thank you notes for presents. ALWAYS.
     10b) If you're feeling down, look up videos of babies laughing on YouTube. Ditto baby animals doing pretty much anything.
Yeah, you're welcome.

OK, now I have a request of any blog-readers that may be out there. I'm planning to enter a feature-writing competition, and I need some assistance. I'd like to write something about mental health in university students - you know, cheery stuff - for reasons you're probably aware of, if you've read previous posts. So, if anyone found that being at uni either triggered, or worsened any mental health/emotional issues/problems they had, and fancies dropping me a couple of lines about it, then please do. Names won't be used in the piece, obviously, and I'm certainly not going to be gossiping down the pub about anything I do get told. I am particularly interested in people who actually managed to use their uni counselling service - did it help? Etc, etc. I will also be writing about my own "I think I'm losing my mind" moments in the feature, too. So, if anyone feels able to share, I would be very, very grateful.

Music time! If I could have anyone write the soundtrack to my life, it would be Gary Lightbody - he just has an unparallelled knack for writing simple songs with all-time melodies; tracks that are effortlessly epic. And he's one of those rare singers who sounds better live than he does on recordings (the Northern Irish accent helps too). This is one of my favourite tracks from the new Tired Pony album - an album that feels like being reunited with an old friend - easy and joyful. And here's another - it starts all slow and yearning, then takes you by surprise about 1:18.

And this lady needs to make a comeback; it's been years. That isn't one of her best songs, by a long way, but it's a fun, playful one.

I'm not crazy, I swear.

A few months ago, I nearly died at East Croydon station.

I didn't really, but as opening lines go, that's not half-bad, is it? With the juxtaposition of melodrama and utter banality - yeah, yeah, English students die hard and whatnot; I'll get on with it.

I thought I was going to die. For perhaps 120 seconds, I was convinced that This. Was. It. I even remember thinking, "Here? Really, here? Of all places?!" To this day, it still frightens me a little to recall just how fast my heart was racing, how I pretty much forgot how to breathe in and out, how I spent a tearful ten minutes in the waiting room between platforms 3 and 4, trembling and trying to calm down.

Panic attacks can be so embarrassing.

I've had this post half-written for a long time, and I'm putting it out there now because 1) I'm having trouble coming up with ideas at the moment, and it's worrying me more than it usually would, because I'm about to do a fortnight's work experience at a student website and therefore need to be at the top of my writing and content-producing game (eek). And 2) in the last week or so, new charity Mindfull has advised that lessons about mental health issues should be a standard part of secondary education.

I don't know many stats about mental health issues off the top of my head - and it really isn't for want of looking - but I can name at least four family members who've suffered depression and/or anxiety (I really won the genetics lottery). Most people know someone who has dealt with issues that are somewhere on the spectrum - from "mild" depression or the odd panic attack, to severe mood disorders. And despite a growing number of high-profile people (Stephen Fry, Catherine Zeta-Jones, my own personal heroine Thea Gilmore) being open about their own experiences of mental health problems, it remains a tricky thing to talk about. I almost think I'd more readily give my nearest and dearest a grim-faced account of a particularly bad bout of cystitis than admit that sometimes - no, often - my brain goes a bit rogue and starts throwing panic-inducing question after panic-inducing question at me.

I wouldn't say I have a serious problem. (You may read this and conclude otherwise, and I wouldn't blame you.) I mean sure, if I have two whole days off in a row I start to freak out a bit - too much time off triggers my "worst case scenario" montages. But if I've worked a six-day week or two, and have ended up relying on coffee in the mornings and a glass of wine in the evenings, it won't be long before the jitters set in. Which turn to tension, which in turn may spark a little panic moment, or a proper "OhGODIcan'tbreathe" attack. Sometimes hormones play a part, sometimes they don't.

There was a time when I would have said I had a problem. I've mentioned it before - "that time I went a bit mad in second year". In, um, my second year of uni, funnily enough. Until then I'd been a worrier, sure, but the end of 2009 saw that erupt, seemingly from nowhere, into a full-blown Thing. A Thing that hounded me for months, like an internal stalker. If depression is "the black dog", anxiety is a Jack Russell, yapping and snapping at your ankles, until you give it the attention and energy it needs.

During those horrible few months, I tried a number of things - saw more than one GP, went home to my mother, confided in one tutor, played a lot of clock patience (there's not much to do at five in the morning when sleep is an alien concept and you need something that's going to occupy your brain and your hands. Don't make it weird), and got as far as the door of the university counselling service. On two occasions. Did I ever make an appointment? No. By admitting that a few sessions of chatting to a trained professional might be a good idea, it felt like I'd be slapping a label on my forehead that read "nutter". I was scared of what other people would think - I'm still not sure why I thought I had to tell them. I think I reasoned that if I had good friends, a reasonably supportive - if not endlessly patient - family, a bemused but caring boyfriend, what was so wrong with me that I needed someone else to talk to? But that's the nature of the beast, I guess - the sense of perspective is the first thing to go.

I spent most of the summer that followed second year with gastritis. I'd literally worried myself sick. Things only started to settle down properly when I began my third year - I was living with a good friend, my workload increased, so I had more stuff to concentrate on, and I think I'd just worn myself out. Being in a constant state of anxiety is exhausting. 

I'm really not sure how to round off a blog post that is a little more soul-baring than I'm used to. Like I said, I don't feel I have a serious problem now - I have a few bad days every month or so, and I know what helps and what doesn't, even if I don't always act upon that knowledge. Would I be rid of my weird anxiety issues? Of course I would. I'd pay good money to be one of those asleep-as-soon-as-head-meets-pillow, whatever-will-be-will-be people. But the chances of that kind of a change happening are slim-to-none - the best I think I can hope for is just to get a bit better at dealing with the waves of panic as and when they roll in, and eventually, they might start to shrink.

If this doesn't haunt your dreams, well, then I'm all out of gothy-sounding country-folk to give you.

And this is cute. I don't know if I've missed the boat with this band - has anyone heard of them? Have they released anything over here? But the video itself is gloriously silly and camp, while the song is basically a shortcut back to the best bits of your teen years - sweet and fun and at times, a little bit sexy (altogether now: "we're going to rattle this ghost town!").