Finding HopeA Fear of Fireworks
Posted on November 8, 2017
I hate Bonfire Night. I really, really hate it.
When I was fifteen, I was at the cinema with my two best friends. We were in the middle of a film when something brushed through my hair and landed between mine and my best friend’s feet. I don’t remember now if I knew it was a firework or whether my survival instinct just kicked in automatically because I was out of my seat in a split second. I tripped over a bag as I raced down the row and someone hauled me back up, dragging me with them. My memory of those few seconds is weird, almost as if belongs to somebody else.
But, fortunately for all of us, someone from the row in front of us had stamped out the firework before it had gone off (while threatening to cut the balls off the person who’d thrown it). The lights switched on and a cinema employee came running in to see what had happened. Someone had come up the back stairs, thrown a firework into the crowd, and then done a runner. It looked like someone had thrown a pebble into a pond, we’d all moved outwards, standing almost in a circle with the firework in the middle. There were offers of compensation and calling of ambulances but everyone was okay, apart from the shock of it. I don’t think it had really sunk in because they rewound the film and we sat through the rest of it, although the three of us held on tight to each other until the film ended. On the bus home, we all jumped every time someone hit the buzzer for the next stop.
I was freaked out but I didn’t really take it in until the next time I saw fireworks. I was with my family, we were a significant distance from where they were going off, but I went into a panic. I felt like my ribcage was shrinking or like my lungs were swelling and I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to run. I wanted to run until I physically couldn’t anymore. And after talking to my Mum about it, I realised where that feeling had come from. Worst-case scenario, that firework could’ve gone off in our faces. I don’t want to think about the consequences of that.
Over the years, I’ve avoided fireworks wherever possible. But I haven’t been able to block them out completely. Even when I’m curled up in my room, I can hear them. I don’t have quite the same dramatic response as I did but they’re still a source of anxiety. Every time I hear one go off, my stomach twists. I can’t relax; it’s like there’s a current running under my skin.
As much as I’d like to order the world to stop setting off fireworks, that’s just not possible. I can’t control that but there are some things I can control, things that make the experience a little bit easier:
- Create a calming environment – Fireworks going off outside my window is stressful enough without adding extra anxieties. So I try and remove the unnecessary ones and surround myself with safe things. For me, that’s familiar things. So on Bonfire Night this year, I took myself up to my room and curled up in bed with my cat and one of my favourite TV shows.
- Try to distract myself – Giving myself something to work on helps to shift the focus from my anxiety. Otherwise I’m just waiting for the next firework to go off, amping up my anxiety even more. What works depends on how anxious I am or how tired I am. Sometimes it needs to be something simple, like playing a game on my phone, something that doesn’t require a lot of brainpower. Sometimes it needs to be something that takes up every inch of my brain, like playing the piano.
- Making sure I have support – While there’s nothing anyone can actually do to help, having people checking in on me and making sure I’m okay (or at least not completely losing my shit) does make me feel a bit better. Or a little bit less panicked. And I’ll take what I can get. I think it just brings me back to Earth a bit when my anxiety starts to spiral out of control.
None of these things fix the problem or remove my anxiety but as I’ve written before, sometimes that’s not possible. Sometimes all you can do is get through it and try not to make it worse. This anxiety has gotten better over time; the sound of fireworks no longer sends me into a panic attack. Maybe one day I won’t even blink when I hear one go off. Maybe I won’t even notice it. But until that day, I’m just trying to make it through with as little anxiety as possible.
The End of an Era
Posted on November 5, 2017
I did it. I graduated.
The last three years have been a whirlwind. As I said in my Instagram post on Thursday, “my degree was an endless mix of inspiring, exhausting, frustrating, ridiculous, exciting, stressful, and joyful.” That’s the short version. The long version is very long. I dealt with a lot of grief and disappointment. I struggled with my mental health, discovered I was Autistic, and started to untangle all the threads that come from that. And that’s outside of university. At uni, I wrote hundreds of songs, met some amazing people, got the opportunity to go to Nashville, and ultimately, became a better songwriter. There were classes I loved and classes I hated. It was a constant battle to keep the lid on my anxiety and sometimes I failed. But I wouldn’t change it. My experience is coloured massively by how good my third and last year was. There were moments where I hated it, where it made me incredibly anxious, where I had meltdowns so bad I thought I’d never recover. There were moments I thought I’d never get through, that I couldn’t do what I was being asked to do. But somehow I did. Somehow I’m here, with a first and two graduation ceremonies under my belt.
The first graduation was for UEL, The University of East London. My school, The Institute of Contemporary Musical Performance, is a specialist music college and while it operates independently, it’s officially part of UEL. So we were invited to one of their graduation ceremonies. My Mum and my Granny came to this one. It was very formal – it was caps and gowns. That was something I was looking forward to and something I was very let down by. I’d thought it would be fun but it became a very stressful experience. Maybe it didn’t fit properly, maybe that’s just how it is but my cape kept sliding back and strangling me and my cap kept falling off my head. It took seven bobby pins to keep it on my head. As someone who struggles with sensory stuff, which includes the way clothes feel, that was really hard and really ratcheted up my anxiety. Fortunately, spending time with my friends, messing around and laughing, helped to keep it at a bearable level.
The ceremony itself was a bit strange. Because I only went to UEL once, it kind of felt like I was intruding, like I didn’t belong there. All the talk of the ‘UEL community’ made me feel a bit disconnected from the whole thing but the speakers were very good. I’d like to share something Geoff Thompson, the chair of the governors, said in his speech: “You are strong. Don’t ever, ever forget that you are strong… Never, never, never, never, never, NEVER give up on your dreams. It is not an option. It is not a choice.” You know, that was just what I needed to hear, just as I’m leaving university and heading out into an uncertain world. It was inspiring. It was empowering.
And all of a sudden, we were lining up to walk across the stage to shake the chancellor’s hand. It was weird: I had tunnel vision. No one could have applauded me as I walked across the stage and I wouldn’t have noticed. I was completely focussed on walking towards the chancellor, shaking his hand, and walking down the steps. It’s funny how something that you usually don’t have to think about – like walking – suddenly seems to take a lot of effort. But I did it, I got back to my seat, and I cheered for my friends. We threw our caps and then it was over. Graduation one was done. I’d thought I’d stay for a drink with my coursemates but after all the anxiety, I was completely exhausted. So I (eagerly) returned my gown and headed home.
The second graduation was a couple of days later and much more fun. This was just our school so it felt a lot more personal. Even though I don’t have many friends outside my course, I recognised a lot of faces from the other courses and we’d all shared the same space. We’re all connected by that. We didn’t have to wear gowns but it was still formal. Everybody looked gorgeous; it was really fun to see everyone dressed up. All four of my parents came to this one, which was amazing. I’ve never had all of them at a school thing before so that made me very happy. I was positively giddy.
I really enjoyed the ceremony. The head of each course made a speech and then presented each of their students with the scroll. My favourite speech came from my programme leader, Jonathan. It was thoughtful and warm and inspiring. He even gave this blog a shout out, along with two other projects my friends have worked on. It was a very special moment. Another special moment was watching one of my best friends receive her scroll while her own song played. That was awesome.
And suddenly, it was my turn and I was walking across the stage, giving Jonathan a hug, and accepting my scroll. We posed for the photo and then I was moving again. I was a bit more aware of what was going on this time. The UEL one was a good rehearsal in that regard. There wasn’t an opportunity to thank my parents so I made the best of what I had. I located them in the crowd and did this:
It was important to me to do that.
Everyone received their scrolls and then we gathered for the reception. It was lovely to celebrate with everyone, to catch up, to introduce my parents to all these people who have played such an important part of my life in the last three years.
And that was graduation. The only other thing to add is that, to celebrate, we headed out for drinks. It was my first experience being in a club and my first experience drinking cocktails, neither of which I would say I enjoyed but it felt very empowering to try those new things and not feel trapped by my anxiety. Major thanks to my friends for looking after me and making it such a positive experience.
I will write more about my experience at university at some point but it’s a pretty big task. I need to go through my diaries and pull together some stuff before I can write an accurate account of that time but I will manage it at some point. It was a crucial time in my life. It’s a big part of who I am.
Side Effect City
Posted on November 1, 2017
Just over a month ago, I started taking Venlafaxine for my depression. I’ve tried lots of different anti depressants in the past, many of which I had a bad reaction to, so I was nervous. Weaning myself off the Phenelzine was hard and I was very, very depressed but somehow, I reached a point where I felt ready to feel different. It was a bit like breaking the surface after being underwater. I was, and still am, desperate to feel better.
Week 1
I started on a very low dose, half the lowest therapeutic dose, so that my body could get used to it. But despite that, I felt the effects straight away and incredibly strongly. I was very nauseous. It was so bad that I couldn’t really concentrate on anything else; all my concentration was focussed on not throwing up. It made me dizzy and I was tired all the time. I did check with my psychiatrist to make sure it was okay to keep going with it and he said it would pass so I focussed on tolerating it.
The other immediate change was my sleep. I went from struggling to wake up before eleven (and I mean really struggling: it felt like I was drowning) to being wide awake at eight o’clock in the morning. It was bizarre.
Week 2
The nausea faded around the beginning of the second week, which I was very grateful for. My mood, while still pretty low, was stable, and I was still waking up much earlier than I had been able to previously. However I started having headaches and I was exhausted all the time, which made it very hard to do anything.
Week 3
In the third week, I went up to the lowest therapeutic dose. This caused a pretty dramatic reaction. For the first few days I was so tired that I fell asleep in the middle of the day, something I haven’t done in years. But despite that, I was waking up even earlier, between six and six thirty am.
By the middle of the week, I couldn’t concentrate at all. I couldn’t hold a conversation, I couldn’t follow the storyline of a forty-minute TV episode, I couldn’t even play a game on my phone… That was scary, but I couldn’t even really feel that because I couldn’t seem to process the emotion. I started to feel faint and very shaky and that went on for several days. If I stood up for longer than a couple of minutes, my legs started to shake and my hands shook so badly that I couldn’t hold a pen. That was very unpleasant.
Week 4
Most of the fourth week was lost because of severe, unexplained leg pain that had me in tears. My psychiatrist didn’t think it had anything to do with the medication and DVT was ruled out but other than that, we don’t know what caused it. I’ve been taking painkillers since and it’s been better. So that tired me out and overwhelmed everything else. But since then, the shaking has mostly stopped and I’m back to waking up between eight and nine in the morning.
This week is the first where I’ve felt different mentally and emotionally while taking Venlafaxine. I wouldn’t say I feel better but I’ve been feeling a bit lighter. That feels very strange and a bit scary. With this new lightness, I’ve been feeling a bit lost which I’ve written about here. I’ve been so depressed for so long that I can’t remember what it’s like to not be depressed. But despite all of those confusing emotions, I am pleased that this medication is starting to work. It will probably take another month or so to really know how it’s affecting me but it’s looking positive and I’m really grateful for that.
Finding Hope 