“Anxiety is ruining my life,” Sally Brampton explores…

Columnist and author of Shoot The Damn Dog: A memoir Of Depression (Bloomsbury, £15.99), Sally Brampton explores an emotional issue with every reader

ELLA: My son, Jake, had meningitis when he was one. The GP said there was nothing wrong with him, but he deteriorated overnight so I took him to A&E. Six hours later, he was diagnosed with meningitis. What scared me most was that I thought I knew the symptoms and only took him to hospital because he was so dehydrated. That was six months ago, and I still feel like I’m not coping.

SALLY: That must have been a terrible shock. Is he your first child?
E: Yes. He was in hospital for 10 days and then on medicine at home for another 10 days, but the catheter kept coming out which meant they had to keep trying find a new vein, making him scream. It was like
an endurance test. He’s fine now, but I feel like I’m trapped in a worst-case scenario all the time. I’m constantly anxious and find it really hard to switch off. The birth itself was traumatic because I had pre-eclampsia so I was quite ill and had to be hospitalised.

S: So you’ve been in hospital a lot recently?
E: Yes, and now I feel constantly exhausted. My husband and I are often at each other’s throats. If we see the other do something wrong – in fact, it doesn’t even have to be wrong, just slightly different to how we do things usually –  it’s attack, attack, attack. We even talked  about having a break. Sorry, I’m going to cry… I didn’t want to open up to him about how I was feeling because it’s so negative. When our son was in hospital, we dealt with it independently. I even told my husband that if our son died, I wasn’t sure I would be able to live. To be honest, I think that upset him really badly.

S: Yes, that must have been terrible to hear.
E: Now that our son is healthy again, my husband doesn’t worry about him because he believes that worrying destroys you – but I just can’t help it.

S: Have you been to see a GP to explain how you’re feeling?
E: I went a couple of months ago. He suggested antidepressants, but I didn’t think I needed tablets; I needed to talk to somebody. He said I could see a counsellor but I haven’t sorted anything out yet.

S: Ignoring our needs in favour of our children’s  is typical of mothers, but is also usual for somebody who’s been though a traumatic event with their child. We think we’re not the ones who need looking after. I’m not a great advocate of handing out antidepressants like sweets, but what they can do is get us through a really difficult time so we can see things a bit more clearly and calmly. It sounds as though you’re on hyper-alert all the time.
E: I’m always looking too far ahead and thinking, ‘What if?’ It’s as though I’m trying to head off any problems before they happen, which I know is impossible. I feel like I’ve lost all my confidence.

S: Your world has been threatened, so that’s a normal response. It would be unhealthy not to feel anxious, but what seems to have happened is healthy anxiety has become toxic anxiety. Also, immediately after a traumatic event people tend to cluster around, then as time moves on so do they.
E: In the aftermath all my friends helped, but when I opened up to a good friend recently, she basically said my son was fine now – so what was the problem?

S: That can cause real loneliness because you’re the one who’s still feeling the emotional impact and you need to talk those feelings out. If you don’t, unresolved feelings start coming out in other ways such as insomnia, racing thoughts and terrible fears.
E: That’s exactly right. I get these terrible panicky feelings all the time.

S: If there was an offer of counselling, why haven’t you taken it up?
E: I think it’s because I feel people don’t really understand. It’s actually more upsetting trying to explain to someone how I’m really feeling and have them say I should be fine by now. I suppose when it came to counselling I thought I would just get the same reaction.

S: Absolutely not. Our friends want us to feel better so they say what they think is going to make us feel better but which, essentially, causes us to shut down. But a counsellor will really listen to what you have to say and guide you through the healing process. The way you are feeling is normal, considering what you’ve been through. You are not going mad but you do need help to reduce your anxiety.
E: ‘Normal’. That’s the word everyone uses. It’s all back to normal, so you can just move on. I end up thinking to myself ‘Maybe I’m not normal – I should be feeling better by now’. But the truth is that I’m still not feeling OK.

S: Counselling would also help you to feel less lonely and isolated. We tend to feel lonely when we feel nobody is listening to us. Being heard makes us feel safer.
E: It’s definitely what I’m craving, but as a parent you always worry about your children – so I think, ‘I’m never going to feel safe, I’m always going to feel like this’.

S: It’s completely normal to worry about our children, but the threat and danger of your son’s illness has caused your adrenalin levels to shoot up and they have remained at that very high level.
E: I feel a shadow of the happy-go-lucky woman I used to be. I know people don’t mean to be unkind when they tell me to move on, but when they don’t understand that I also feel I’m mourning a part of friendship that has gone.

S: What would you like your friends to do?
E: Take me out, open a bottle of wine and let me talk and talk and talk – just like we’re doing now – instead of saying ‘Everything’s OK’ and that I should be happy.

S: There’s another knock-on effect, too. When we don’t feel heard, we withdraw. Being on your own, in your head all the time, is a horrible place to be. Talking is an enormously healing process, but only in the right place. Feeling misunderstood and alone is extremely frustrating.
E: Oh, completely. I find myself going to meet certain friends and in my head I’m rehearsing what I want them to say, but when I start talking about it, they cut me off. I feel like swinging a punch and saying, ‘Can you not hear me?’

S: Very often we’re not heard at all. When people say, ‘How are you?’ what they really want to hear is, ‘I’m fine.’
E: I’m fine. That’s what I say all the time.

S: Do you know what fine stands for in ‘therapy speak’? F***ed up. Insecure. Neurotic. Emotional.
E: That’s brilliant. In that case I am completely fine.

S: We all think other people are fine and we’re the ones who aren’t, but as soon as you start really listening, you begin to understand that we’re all fragile and vulnerable. Because we don’t want to be seen that way, we put up barriers to stop people getting in.
E: Yes, I suppose that’s really what I’ve been doing all this time.

S: Do you think it might be a good idea to go back to your GP and tell them that you’re still not feeling great?
E: Yes. When I first went to see my GP, I really thought I was being ridiculous by needing therapy – but now I can see how helpful it could be.

S: So has talking broken that fear?
E: Yes, because I’d made an assumption that nobody gets it, but after just an hour of talking to you, I feel understood – and that’s a huge relief. When you used the word ‘trauma’, I realised that’s how I’ve been feeling and that that’s OK because I have been through quite a lot.

S: Yes, you have and you need to connect back to life.  But, in order to do that, you need to connect to somebody who understands what you’ve been through and who can hear what you’re saying. It would also really help your relationship with your husband.
E: I feel so much better. I’m definitely going to book myself in for some counselling. When are you next free? I’m joking…

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