So tomorrow morning I have booked a doctors appointment in which I intend to confront my social anxiety once and for all, and hit my anxiety on the head instead of tip-toeing around it like I always do.
For as long as I can remember I've always felt very uncomfortable and awkward in certain social situations. Not as in shyness, but as in having a sense of dread so large that I felt like I could throw up at any moment, and not about situations which warrant such a reaction. I'd have these reactions to the thought of having people I didn't know in my house, going for meals with family friends I barely knew, answering the phone, answering the door to pick up a takeaway...the list goes on. In my second year of college I developed IBS, partly due to a lactose intolerance that no one suggested might be the most obvious cause of me being ill every day for two years, and with that sprang extreme anxiety and depression. As a result I would have numerous days off college, a lot of which were because I was too emotionally tired to deal with the emotional effort of having to cope with both the pain and the anxiety that I knew would flare up during the college day. I was constantly having to leave the classroom to go to the toilet, I would have almost permanent crippling stomach cramps and my stomach would always make weird noises in class. I was so embarrassed about my IBS that I didn't tell any of my teachers which made the whole thing worse, because along with constantly having to leave the room, the embarrassment of actually leaving the room multiple times every lesson and knowing that I was drawing unwanted attention to myself devastated me. I thought that everyone would think I was weird or would question my behaviour. The embarrassment manifested itself into very extreme anxiety, to the point where I not only avoided college but also social situations, as even the thought of my close friends knowing I had IBS filled me with shame. I got even more despondent about the situation because I would miss college and get moaned at by my teachers, all the while having no control over my body physically, or the way I mentally reacted to it. I loathed myself and my body for removing me of my freedom. I ended up having a massive panic attack in an A level exam because my IBS was acting up and I was told I couldn't leave the exam room, and as a result I now can't sit my exams in exam halls, or even be in quiet, busy spaces unless I know I can leave easily and discretely at any time.
So, that was college. I then moved to Manchester to start university and the combined stress of moving, not getting on with my flatmates at all and having a bad diet full of dairy (still not knowing I was lactose intolerant) made my IBS incredibly bad. I started missing lectures, being constantly anxious and getting worked up about everything. There were a few times when I couldn't even bring myself to leave my room because I felt so anxious about what could happen if I was ill - which there was a high chance of happening - and have to deal with the anxiety that came with it. I ended up avoiding everything. So, I thought. Enough is enough. I dragged myself to the university doctor - I should say at this point that I didn't even realise my anxiety was anxiety, and attributed to just being IBS - and said something along the lines of "I have IBS...it's making me panic a lot...I can't cope with exams etc..." At this point I hadn't mentioned my IBS or the anxiety to a single person, and so I felt like I confessing a huge secret (and source of crippling embarrassment) and I expected to be reassured that it was okay, that I was normal and for my doctor to give me options to deal with it. The whole affair took an incredible amount of effort on my part. It turns out that I had booked an appointment with the grumpiest, rudest doctor I've ever encountered, who didn't even look at me once throughout the whole appointment, and simply repeated to me what I had said, asked if I had any questions and then ended the appointment. Nothing at all happened, and I was absolutely devastated. I felt like an idiot, I felt like I was making up everything I felt, I felt completely alone and I ran home (bursting into tears before I even reached my halls to further increase my embarrassment) and cried for the rest of the day. After that I felt ashamed of my anxiety and gradually felt even more hopeless and more anxious, partly because I didn't have a clue what was happening to me.
Attempt #2 to get help came shortly after with a doctor I had at home. This was slightly more successful, however I mentioned that I thought I had social anxiety (I've had issues long before the IBS developed, but I think the IBS was a trigger for the extreme frequent anxiety I felt) and my doctor offered to put me on anti-depressants. Great, I thought. And I must say, they were absolutely amazing. They made me feel free of panic and I could finally do things I wanted to without panicking and wanting to run away from wherever I was and curl up into a ball before it felt like the universe was going to implode on me.
And here we are now. A year after starting on Citalopram, the symptoms of my general anxiety are pretty much gone. I have wobbles now and again - everyone does - but generally I feel pretty good. However I can't help but feel that while they've helped me massively, the tablets have only masked the problems. You see, I might feel okay most of the time, but there are still situations which terrify me to the core and which I still completely avoid, and it's getting in the way of my life. Phone calls are one of my worst phobias, as I can't answer the phone except on very rare occasions, and I can only make calls when I know the call is structured and there is little room for the conversation to wander and for me to make a fool of myself, i.e. making a doctors appointment. In my head I know that I won't embarrass myself, but by habit I react to the phone ringing with panic, and it seems like it'll take a fair bit to sort it out.
I want to get a job, and yet I can't answer the phone to a) inquire about jobs, b) answer the phone once I've submitted an application and they ring me back and c) the sheer thought of having to answer the phone at work terrifies me so much that I have avoided even applying. The other week I was feeling particularly anxious, went into Manchester city centre, and then had to get the bus straight out again because the thought of the two minutes of standing at a till opposite another human being nearly gave me a panic attack. Hilariously tragic.
So, I can only really hope that tomorrows doctors appointment allows for some progress at least. I'm a bit less bothered about talking about my anxiety because I've realised now that it's not a fault with me personally, it's a fault with my somewhat dysfunctional headspace. I basically need to explain that although anti-depressants have helped the symptoms, they haven't dealt with the root cause of the problem. I need to ask if they could possibly refer me to some sort of talking therapy to actually allow me to try and combat the cause of the anxiety, not just the symptoms of anxiety.
Ah well. Wish me luck.
