ENOUGH

Here I am.

The recreated version of my former self.

The survivor of a Nervous Breakdown.

Mental Health issues were not on my agenda.

I’d survived far worse, or so I thought.

I’m too strong minded.

Too in control,

Too positive

I’m outgoing.

I’m strong.......just look at what I’ve endured in the past. Surely that speaks for itself.

I’m not the breakdown type.

I am the one who is there for everyone else, I was the one who held it all together, got my family through.

You see, life wasn’t always kind to us.

That’s the funny part of this story, but truth be told there is nothing funny about it at all.

It did happen; it has happened.

The nervous breakdown happened to me.

There is no ‘type’.

In the blink of an eye, I found myself looking for something to cling to, anything, that would pull me out of the seemingly endless vortex that had captured my mind; release me from the grip of whatever this beast was, the one that suddenly resided inside.

In the many months of darkness I faced, I was scared. Moments when I had to make a choice to fight or to be swallowed up by my condition. But I remembered my light, I wanted it back. I willed myself to shine again, even if it was dimly lit at first. If not for me, then for my children.

Today, though often plagued, I’m not ruled by the fear and uncertainty my beast brings. I’ve travelled through the grief, the anger and finally the acceptance that I am no longer who I once was. Most days I understand that maybe, just maybe, what happened to me is a blessing.

As the months have become nearly 2 years, I found a new way to fight this invisible beast. I decided to make it, make them, my friends. Panic and Anxiety, they are clever. They are calculating, and unpredictable. They show no mercy, pick on the weakness you try to hide from the world. Panic and Anxiety know just how to get under the skin of the people who think it can’t happen to them.

So, I’m going to tell my story to you.

Panic and anxiety can happen to anyone, no matter who you are.

They’re real.

They’re powerful.

It’s different for every person.

It’s nothing to be ashamed of.

I write Panic and Anxiety like names, because to me they are an entity, invisible yes, life changing, absolutely.

Are they able to control your mind? Only if you let them.

You can beat it, beat them.

Looking back, it’s easy to see I haven’t had the easiest road in life. Safe to say my journey has not been one any girl would dream of. But despite it all, I was happy when this beast came along, or so I thought.

My life was as calm as I can remember it being. I was in love, had a good job, my family was safe, Finally I thought I was going to be content. But then my body started screaming from deep inside......ENOUGH.........and everything crashed down around me.

Perhaps the signs were there, but I’d become good at squashing negative or unsettling feeling. I focused on positive things, my work, my writing, helping others, keeping active, eating right, being busy in my mind. Busy enough, to ensure when the little anxious niggles would plague me, I could cover them up. I saw tiredness or stillness as a weakness.

But my body kept trying to tell me from deep within, and it yelled louder.......ENOUGH.

In the months leading up to my breakdown, the signs were there. I was becoming increasingly aware of the anxious feelings and thoughts I had often. Sometimes I was unable to really rationalise why I was feeling unsettled, not right in my head, even foggy. I began to notice, despite being physically present in a place, somehow I felt removed, not really there.

Noises and motion around me, were startling me more easily.

I was losing confidence in so many ways, and starting to shy away from social interaction.

Then I began to doubt my worth to anybody and everybody more than I ever had before. I am not going lie, this is a battle I have had my whole life. But the battle raging within was growing, and it was building rapidly.

And still my body screamed.....ENOUGH.

Strangely enough, these feelings seemed to surface the more my life was falling into place. I was now living with a beautiful man, who was soon to become my husband, planning an elopement and building a house together. Surely the past was where it should be. It was my time to finally have the fairytale?

Right?

Both my boys, who had suffered in their own ways as a consequence of the past, were doing better. I could finally breathe a little deeper and believe they were going to be okay, that we were going to be okay.

Still as much as I continued to block my ears to the little voice within, the once tiny voice was starting to scream, becoming more frequent,.....ENOUGH! she voiced.

I eloped to Byron Bay as planned. Safe to say it was a huge decision for me to trust enough to get married again. It felt right, and I was excited. This was the new and improved chapter of my life, the one I had wanted all along. But amongst this excitement was fear, undesirable, indescribable fear. The day I was to be married, was such a beautiful day, yet my emotions were dominated by the chaos in my mind.

I loved this man, I knew it was right. Those closest to me assured me I was doing the right thing. Past flashbacks began resurfacing, coming thick and strong and often left me gasping for air in the middle of the night.

It’s hard for me to explain, but I was so used to living on the edge, in protection mode, in survival mode, I found these feelings of being loved and vulnerable hard to manage, hard to trust. I didn’t know how to respond.

My husband is a kind and caring man, and I am very grateful for the chance to live my life with him. He tries to understand this part of me as best he can, as do my friends and family. That’s not an easy task. Many times I am at a loss as to why certain feelings or fears arise myself. They often come from nowhere, paralyzing me in the moment.

Those who have not walked in my shoes, can only have limited understanding. Same goes for us all. We all have a personal story to tell, all have suffered in one way or another. Every person has their own truth, which colours their world.

A few months before the real beast decided to move into my life, he sent me a little taste of what was coming. I remember waking in the night to a song repetitively playing in my head, over and over again. I could not get it to stop. It scared me so I got up, and tried to shake the feeling of unease from my mind. The nights are the worst time to squash the dark voice within, such a lonely time.

Over the next week the same song kept playing. I remember thinking I was going crazy, and I would do anything to try to get it to stop.

Then came the anxiety. Most nights I would wake in panic, about what I didn’t know, but my body would tremble and shake. I felt it off and on at work, at home, with friends and I could not pinpoint why. By the end of the week, I went to my doctor. She assured me I was not going crazy, just a little burnt out. I was prescribed Valium, something I refused to even consider. That would mean I really did have a problem surely. I was a believer in natural medicine and remedies, certainly not Valium.

My life was great now remember, and yet still, if I stopped long enough to listen, by body continued screaming at me......ENOUGH.

But within a few weeks, things did settle down and life soldiered on.

There were other things happening frequently, looking back.

My brain felt fuzzy much of the time, like I was forgetful, or in a daze.

My eyes seemed to be less comfortable with the light, I felt like the brightness of the sun would shock me, and I felt more sensitive to lights in the shops. Noises startled me more than ever before, particularly certain pitches of voices.

Each morning I woke with the heaviness of unease. Exhausted after yet another night of poor sleep. The nightmares were full on. Things raced in my brain. My body felt like it was restless and moving beneath my skin, like a tremor from head to toe. Not all the time, but enough to make me question what the hell was going on. I put it down to getting older, change of life coming perhaps. Nothing I couldn’t fix with a good dose of positivity and ignorance.

I was continually having feelings of dizziness and often felt the blood rush from me like I was going to faint. The worst episode that occurred was driving by myself down to our holiday cabin at the beach. I became so dizzy and disorientated, it was simply by the Grace of God, I did not crash. My chest was tight, my limbs were weak, my body shook and my inner voice screamed at me.

I knew something was very wrong, but I wasn’t ready to speak it.

What I wasn’t prepared for, were the revelations that would come with repressed memories clawing their way to my conscious thought. This meant for the first time, the hurt, the trauma, the exhaustion from my past could finally make its way to the surface.

ENOUGH.

I had often experienced vertigo, but nothing like the lead up to my diagnosis. I was unable to drive and felt really concerned about how my head was feeling. I was on and off disorientated and often felt like my body was not my own. I struggled to do normal things like cut up food on a chopping board or put my make up on, clean my teeth. Driving was out of the question. I got some antibiotics and took the week off work begrudgingly, aiming to recover.

Never could I have imagined, the cruel reality that was coming.

To remember events from here, what really happened in the first few weeks is tough. Much of it is a blur. I can remember one thing very clearly, however.

I wanted to die.

The feeling was all consuming, a relentless unease. My head felt wrong, my body felt wrong, my life felt wrong. I was unable to settle on anything, couldn’t read or focus. Concentrating was hard. I was restless and nervous, agitated and unsettled.

My whole life I have been independent and strong, not afraid to be alone. I was always sure of my decisions and actions. Suddenly none of this seemed to apply to me. It was like the real me had ceased to exist.

Was I going crazy?

I felt like something had snapped inside, and I was broken. As much as I tried, I couldn’t grab onto all the pieces to put myself back together.

I was alone at home the first time it happened. It’s hard for me to even explain to you now in an accurate way, a feeling washed over my body. I fell to the floor. It wasn’t a feeling in a certain area of my body like a headache or sore arm, but a feeling that seemed to spread from my head all the way to my toes.

Then a blackness, a frightening heaviness as it became all consuming.

I remember crawling to the front door and opening it, gasping in the fresh air. Why? I thought someone might see me from the road and help. I wondered should I call 000? Was I having a stroke? A heart attack? The room kept spinning, my heart felt like it was beating out of my chest. I felt very hot suddenly and wanted to strip off some clothes. I was sweating and clammy. But I could not move.

Was I going to pass out? Maybe I did.

My body was tingling but at the same time felt heavy and limp. I tried to sit up and could only lean against the wall. My vision was blurry. I was aware of my dog who had come inside, and he was pressing himself up against my body. It was unusual for him to do this.

I had no rational thoughts as my mind raced and spun out of control. Please God help me, I just kept repeating. I became aware of my body, which was shaking uncontrollably. I was so cold. I tried to get up to the couch, but my body felt like jelly and really heavy at the same time. I wrapped myself in a blanket, my dog still by my side.

I stayed there like that, in a fetal position for about an hour. The exhaustion that set in for the remainder of the day was like nothing I had ever experienced.

Little did I know that was just the beginning.

ENOUGH.

That was my first severe panic attack. My first real introduction to my now friend, Panic, a close friend to my other dear companion, Anxiety. They say keep your enemies close. I’ve decided to do just that.

Really if I’m honest, I have spent much of my life tinkering on the edge of anxiety. I’m sure many of us have. I’ve fought hard to keep it at bay, and spent countless hours fearing it coming, creating scenarios in my head about what would happen if it did.

Little did I know it would be a long while before I could be alone, read books, study or go on the computer much at all. My vertigo brought nausea and makes it impossible to see straight. So for the first time in my life, I was couch bound, yet with little ability to concentrate and ironically that meant, lots and lots of Netflix.

I had seen my son in this state many times at the peak of his illness. For the first time ever, I really understood the difference between anxiety and a full blown panic attack. It was so revolting and disturbing, something I never wished to experience again.

But, you guessed it, my new unwanted companions were only just beginning to build up their dominance in my life, and still my body screamed some more........ENOUGH.

The weeks that followed were some of the hardest in my life. I finally was exhausted and defeated enough to agree to be taken to the doctor. I was desperate. I needed intervention, from what, I did not know.

The panic attacks continued day and night. Each day I was home by myself, and I would dread them coming. Each time they felt the same, the blackness washing over me and the feelings of deep illness and confusion swirled around my body and brain. It is such a vicious cycle anxiety and panic. You wait, you dread the onset of an attack and then you battle to get through it, with nothing left in your body but exhaustion. Then it all happens again. The nights were equally as disturbing. Night after night from a dead sleep I would wake, gasping for air, then my body would shake and tremor.

My body was on high alert the entire time. My flight and flight response by now was completely out of control and any noise or bright light would startle me. I needed people around, desperate not to be left alone. I felt like I had regressed back to childhood, like a frightened animal. I was crying all the time in the first few weeks. The dizziness from the vertigo was still raging and now my mind was completely being ruled by strangers.

A beautiful thing that I will never forget during these months, is the love and companionship my animals provided. Their incredible intuition and compassion during this time was simply profound.

We have 2 dogs and 2 cats. Hudson my little cocker spaniel enjoyed immensely the countless hours beside me on the couch, hugging tightly into my body. But as I mentioned earlier, the dog who comforted me in the very first panic attack was our kelpie Cooper.

Cooper has been a working dog all his life, a blokes dog, a ball guy, all rough and tumble. But that day, I witnessed another side to this normally boisterous and high energy guy.

As I laid on the floor that morning, in the open front door, not knowing what was happening to me, not knowing if I was dying, quietly, crawling so delicately toward me, came Cooper. I remember looking up at him, the deep chocolate of his eyes penetrating my soul. Gently edging toward me, he laid his body beside mine, pressing into me, and his wet nose nuzzled into my cheek. I could feel his breath as he lay there, quietly, not moving. His heartbeat became a comfort, as mine beat out of control. I’m not sure how long we stayed there but I will never forget this knowing, courageous act of his, and be forever grateful.

My cats are incredibly intuitive also. To a non animal lover, this may seem ridiculous. My cats Lulu and Chloe are always with me. Right at this moment, we fight for space on my little desk as I write.

Many nights as I would wake in panic or be restless with anxiety, particularly Chloe would come under the covers and press her heavy body deep into my chest. I cannot tell you how this warmth and the soothing sound of the soft purr would calm me to a point where I could get some sleep. Many times, Lulu has licked the tears from my face and reminded me I am not alone. How do they know? I have wondered this so often.

My health deteriorated fast, and I became a shell of the person I knew. I cried a lot that week. I felt like everything I was, and the things that made me who I am, had been stripped away.

During that week I realised I was ruled by an unsettling fear of life itself. Anyone who knows me, knows I love to walk daily, never miss it. But suddenly I couldn’t walk out my front gate. I remember nearly crawling back inside to the safely of my house many times. The dizziness, blurred vision and blackness that kept washing over me was ruling my every movement. A couple of times I tried to go into a shop for food or household supplies. Something I had never thought about before, yet now I couldn’t do it. At this point I couldn’t drive, even being in the car saw me overcome with panic and each time the movement nearly made me vomit. I couldn’t be left alone in the house, I felt terrified at the thought, but why, I didn’t know. Everything in the world was frightening me.

I was diagnosed with a nervous breakdown and against my will, was told I needed to take ani anxiety medication and Valium. It was that or hospital. I knew at this point, despite not wanting to use these medications, I needed to trust and do it. I was physically and emotionally exhausted.

ENOUGH.

The first few weeks on the anti anxiety medication were` horrendous. Worse than before. I still was suffering vertigo and panic but now, for the hours preceding the morning, when I would take the anxiety medication, all the symptoms would heighten. All I could do was lie on the couch as the room spun around me. I felt foggy and unable to think. Then there was the nausea.

For weeks my symptoms reminded me of the worst type of morning sickness, any movement causing me to sweat and vomit. The trick was to keep the tablet down long enough in the morning. I am generally a very positive person, but during this time I questioned what was the point of existing. My mum would wrap me in a blanket on the couch and we would watch television. She fed me, helped me walk to the toilet and shower. She tells me now, during that period it was like she had a young child again, a frightened, confused child. A stranger. My mother in law said I simply had no spark or light in my eyes, like I was vacant and restless. As I said, much is a blur, probably a good thing, as it’s not a time I would want to live again.

When something like this happens to you, you tend to ask yourself a lot of questions, do a lot of soul searching. There were plenty of times I held a pity party for myself and got the sulks, or was just plain angry. I was referred to many specialists. I remember asking my doctor, then my psychologist, then my acupuncturist, my chiropractor, in fact anyone who would listen.....

“Why would this happen to me now?”

I was so strong over the years when I needed to be. I coped with stress and danger and frightening situations repetitively, situations I would wish upon no person. I escaped a domestic violent household with my boys; I made a new home for us. I nursed my youngest child through his own PTSD breakdown, then survived my older son as he went off the rails with alcohol and drugs. I was strong despite being wounded, and all the while I held down a full time professional job with many stresses of its own. So, if I could manage all that, and now my life was calm, happy and full of love, why would this possibly happen?

Why?.........because for the first time in a long time, so I found out, my body let go. My body knew those around me were safe enough, that I could let my guard down. Finally, I could let the trauma I kept locked away, the emotions purposely hidden well beneath my cheery smile, emerge. To this moment it still amazes me how a human mind can do that.

I learnt so many things about life during this time, I don’t profess to be an expert at anything, but I would hope through sharing this journey with you and others, I may be able to encourage you to listen to your body, or shed some light on this horrible beast.

The big picture is no matter how alone you think you are, you are not. Reaching out is important. I have learnt more about people. Some people around you will have more capacity to be there for you than others.

I choose to love them for just that, expect less but be pleasantly surprised if they can offer me more.

I have always been a giver, I believe in being kind and always going the extra mile to help people, both strangers and friends. Over the years I have poured out my love and loyalty to those close to me. It will always be something I believe in and will continue to do. However, during this time, perhaps for the first time in my life, I learnt the importance of self preservation. I always considered this a selfish trait, but it is not. There is a huge difference between being completely self absorbed, which I detest, and loving people with boundaries.

I have learnt during this time, to really listen. My intuition knows. That voice that used to only scream from within is slowly becoming my counsel. Now I can often hear her say

“Thank-you, this is what I need to heal”.

What do I mean by this? I mean it’s more than okay to rest your body when you need too, instead of pushing it to the limit like society often demands we do. It’s okay to say no at times to people both in social and work situations. It’s okay to not pick up your phone or post on social media every day just to feel like you are in the loop.

That was part of my problem, I always looked around me and saw so many successful people. The perfect work colleague, successful in their careers, amazing wives and mums, super fit and with incredible social lives. I never felt I could compete with this. But boy did I try. So many times, when I felt exhausted or simply burnt out, I would use these society images as motivation. I felt to tap out, to self preserve, to rest, was a weakness.

I was so wrong.

Self-preservation is our very greatest strength.

I am your classic people pleaser. A big reason I have done this for so many years, is simply I liked the feeling of being needed and valued. Another wonderful side effect of having low self esteem. I wanted to be liked, yet detested myself. This I have learnt, is the perfect recipe for burnout and a wonderful way to open the door and lay out the red carpet for Panic and Anxiety.

Over the last year, I have had to re learn, in a sense, to function in society. All the normal things I did before, most without a second thought, became impossible. I see things so differently now. For a long while I felt like despite knowing it was the same world, the same community, the same things that make up each day, I just didn’t fit into it anymore. The world kept buzzing around me, but now I couldn’t keep up. I was like an outsider looking in. Now? I celebrate my little wins, remember I was given a second chance. I am one of the lucky ones.

So fast forward to now. Is this a happy ending story? I believe it is? Am I back to ‘normal’? No! but what is normal anyway? Life goes on and like it or not, I’ve learnt a thing or two about living with a mental health condition.

Am I grateful I had a nervous breakdown?

Most days yes, but truth be told I still have days when I’m mega pissed off I can’t do what I used to do both professionally and personally, and I still have the odd pity party that’s for sure.

But here is what I know;

I am brave.

I am strong.

I am able to adapt.

I cherish the stillness and healing in nature.

I value meditation and rest.

I focus on the present day, the present moment.

Living in the past can bring depression, projecting constantly on the future can bring anxiety.

I can use my limitations and mould them into my strengths.

I’m not exactly where I want to be, but I am so much closer than this time last year. So, imagine where I will be in another year!

I am okay not being perfect.

Self care is vital. Do things that make you happy.

Creativity eliminates anxiety.

My mask has finally come off, and I am honest about who I am.

I am learning to love myself.

And the best part?

Bit by bit over the last year I have begun to recreate me!

Maybe I can’t cope with working as a school teacher anymore, but I have created my own business as an Educational Consultant. My studio is at home, where clients come and go. It is thriving.

And you know what else? I always dreamed of being an author. But like many of us, I stayed doing what was safe, the job I knew. When life as I knew it was taken from me, I began to write. In 2020 I have two picture story books and a YA novel being released, with another YA novel well underway.

Exciting hey!

So yes, I have survived a horrendous experience, one that is far from over. But I know so many are going through far worse. I am proud of the way I to continue fight. I am in awe of the proven strength I’ve had in adversity. No, I will never be the same, and that’s a good thing. I am wiser, kinder to myself, notice the miracles in every day. I accept life is full of seasons, both good and bad.

While I still have breath in my lungs, I’ll endeavor to make the world a better place.

Never give up, because you are worth it.

You are more than ENOUGH.

Kel. xx