If you had told me on New Year’s Day that I was about to experience the worst wave of anxiety and panic attacks I’d ever had, I wouldn’t have believed you. In fact, it was the first New Year’s Day in the three years since my mother had died that I hadn’t felt angry at the world. Usually, New Year’s Day was just a reminder of another year of my life that I would have to live without my Mum. Another year that she would never see. This time, however, it was different. I finally felt like my world had calmed down after a turbulent year. I’d successfully transferred straight into second year at my dream university, Exeter, having had a miserable first year at a university in East London. I had good friends at uni and at home, and I was looking forward to returning to Exeter after the Christmas holidays. So, as I sat there in my dressing gown on January 1st, surrounded by some of the people I treasured most in the world, I felt happy. I didn’t care that I was running on four hours sleep, or that my body was paying for all the prosecco I had consumed the night before, I was just content to be there.

I caught a cold (most likely a result of the back to back Christmas drinking) and felt pretty groggy for the next few days. One afternoon, I was due to head up to London with my friends but I was struck with the strongest desire to stay at home in my pyjamas. I put it down to the fact that my body was still recovering from the cold and didn’t think anything of it – we rescheduled and that was that. Until the exact same thing happened again. Only this time I had got dressed, done my hair and put on my makeup, yet something wasn’t letting me out the door. In fact, a full on panic came over me; the thought of being on a train for half an hour, or walking around London, or sitting in a restaurant feeling like this was enough to scare me back to the safety of my sofa.

It turns out this was the beginning of an intense period of anxiety, agoraphobia and panic attacks that was about to screw up the start of my year. As the days went on it only got worse. I was terrified to leave the house, I would lie awake in bed for whole nights at a time, and I was experiencing panic attacks in the safety of my own home which is something that had never been an issue before. Every morning I would wake up with the same cloudy feeling in my head. My aunt had to drag me (quite literally march me out the house) on a walk to get some fresh air, but I had to cling tightly to her arm the whole time. It was hell. I missed the first week back at uni because the thought of being anywhere but my own home filled me with dread. Eventually, after finally getting a decent night of sleep, my Dad drove me down to Exeter as I sat timidly in the front seat. When we got there I realised I couldn’t even go into the supermarket to get some food for the next couple weeks – I had to send my Dad in alone while I cowered in the car. Although getting down to uni felt like I was over a huge hurdle, it became clear that this was only a small step forward.

The next few weeks were pretty miserable. Mundane activities, such as popping to the Co-op, felt like impossible tasks. My wonderful housemates would walk everywhere with me, close by so that they could jump in to help me at any time. Public spaces overwhelmed me and I felt out of control. Supermarkets felt so bright and busy that I was sure I would topple over and faint at any given moment; I would rush around furiously grabbing the groceries I needed, desperate to buy them and run back outside to the fresh air. A long queue was unbearable and I would always feel the panic rising in my chest as I had no choice but to stand there and wait. I gave up iced coffee, which was my absolute favourite thing to drink, and stayed away from anything else with caffeine in it. There was no chance I was going out clubbing either, so I stopped drinking alcohol.  Even the cinema was too much for me. As a result, my social life was pretty much put on hold, which wasn’t the best thing considering I was pretty new to Exeter.

One morning, by some miracle, I felt brave enough to attempt going to a lecture. Everything was going swimmingly until half way through I felt the unmistakable signs of a panic attack starting. It didn’t make sense – I had felt so calm the whole morning. It felt like it took every atom in my body to stay in my seat for the rest of the lecture – I feared that if I stood up I would faint or throw up and wouldn’t even be able to make it to the door. After this, I didn’t attend any classes for the rest of the term. Some days I would get all the way to the entrance of campus before turning on my heel and rushing home again. My fear of having a panic attack in a lecture or seminar was overwhelming and I let it take control of my life.

I want to pause here to describe what my panic attacks feel like. For me, they begin with a sudden hyper awareness. I start to notice every small detail around me and it feels like space is closing in on me. I can feel my tongue heavy in my mouth and I get this overwhelming sense that I can’t keep myself upright. Soon after, my heart begins to thud in my chest (from the fear, of course) and my breathing becomes heavy and irregular. Whatever situation I’m in, I have to get out of it. Be it a supermarket, a train, a restaurant, or just a sofa crammed with people. I can’t concentrate on anything and I feel sick to my stomach, despite the water I’m sipping desperately to calm me down. Usually the worst of it is over in about 10 minutes, but sometimes they can last up to an hour. Everybody who suffers from panic attacks will most likely have slightly unique experiences. Some people experience physical pain symptoms similar to a heart attack and while I have never had to deal with that, I can only image how terrifying it can be. Essentially the fear associated with panic attacks is that you convince yourself you’re going to die, because there’s sometimes no logical explanation why it’s happening. No matter how much you tell yourself this, when you’re in the middle of one, the fact becomes futile.

It got to a point where I really couldn’t imagine myself getting back to normal, but I was lucky enough to have the right people around me to pump me full of hope. The truth is, the worst of it only lasted a month. Of course, when you’re stuck inside all day, doing nothing for a whole month (as I’m sure many people can relate to at the moment), it feels like forever. I didn’t feel like I was making any progress, but then I began to look back and realised there were things I was suddenly able to do which I couldn’t face doing the week before. I would have less mornings with a cloudy head, and more where I was happy to jump up and grab an early shower. My bedroom at uni had a door leading into the garden, so I would eat my breakfast outside whenever I could, just to appreciate how good the fresh air felt.

I started taking CBD capsules once a day, and whether it was a placebo or not, I noticed the difference. I stopped being so scared of being in public and I even managed to go out for breakfast. Although it was such a tiny step, I was so pleased that I had sat through my meal without wanting to escape. It’s important to notice the victories, regardless of their size. My friends were so understanding and always made it clear they wanted me to communicate how I was feeling. It’s so important to laugh too. We had a joke that you would know what sort of mood I was in depending on how long I would spend in a supermarket. If I rushed around like a headless chicken, they knew they had to get me home as soon as possible, but if I took my time it meant we could stay out in town and have a laugh as we browsed through the sale section in Topshop. I can’t stress how important it is to talk to somebody. I found that just emptying my thoughts out to someone other than myself lifted some of the burden my anxiety was on me. I spoke to the university mental health team and I sought professional help from a CBT therapist and began to realise just how many people are waiting with open arms to help you. Even when I finally saw a doctor and told her “I think i’m suffering from severe anxiety and panic disorder”, I noticed how her just agreeing with me felt like a huge sigh of relief that this wasn’t all in my head.

At the end of February I came home to go to a concert in London with my sister. I was nervous, of course, but even getting ready and going to the train station felt so good and normal. We had a few tins of g&t on our way up to town and this loosened me up before the big and scary underground at London Bridge. When we got to the platform of the tube I was worried that the dizziness I felt was an anxiety attack about to hit. This was until my sister turned to me and said ‘Do you feel a bit light headed?’ at which point we burst into laughter because it was clearly just the alcohol. I looked at all the people on the tube and thought about the fact that none of them knew how chuffed I felt to be crammed on there with them. I think that says a lot about anxiety. It’s such a personal, interior battle, that no one apart from yourself can truly comprehend it unless they’ve experienced it themselves. But this doesn’t mean people aren’t willing to listen. Before I had my first real panic attack in my first year at university, I never really understood how prohibiting they could be. I felt sorry for people who said they experienced them, but I couldn’t quite grasp what could be so scary about it. It’s so important to understand that invisible struggles and mental health problems are just as valid as physical health problems and I only really realised that when I began to suffer from it. I’m sure that among those commuters on the tube were many different people who were going through something that you couldn’t tell by looking at them, just as they didn’t know how much of a triumph it was for me to be there. The concert was great, by the way.

From that point forward I only got better. I went to a friends 21st birthday and had a super fun evening free from worry, even if I did pay for it with the hangover the next day. I figured I was going to have to cancel on the day of, but just like so many things, the anxiety began to leave as quickly as it had arrived. I was also able to go to a crowded pub with my family and do nothing but laugh the whole evening. The happiest part of it all was that I finally felt brave enough to go to the cinema, and it was grand.

The truth is, this bad spell of anxiety didn’t come out of nowhere. I’d been ignoring the signs since the summer and just hadn’t dealt with it. I’ve always been an anxious person, but it was never as prominent as it has been the last few years. I thought I could manage it fine just by myself, but anxiety doesn’t work like that. There were times where I felt a little strange in supermarkets but because it wasn’t happening consecutively, I just pushed it away. I even stopped driving for a while at the end of summer because I’d had a panic attack in my car on my way back from brunch with friends, but I pretended this was something I could just get over. With these things, they rarely go away unless you confront them head on. I had my fair share of arguments with my best friends when I dismissed their concern and told them they shouldn’t be worried, but they were right: I needed help. I’m so glad I finally listened.

I still have a long way to go. Although I have taken back control of my life, I have days that are better than others and sometimes I still can’t face going to the supermarket. The difference now is that I am filled with nothing but hope that as time goes on I will only get stronger. I just want to take a moment here for anyone who might be going through the thick of it right now: it will pass. It’s going to feel like shit for a while, but as the saying goes, after every storm comes a rainbow. I cannot repeat enough how important it is to talk to somebody, and how vital it is that you are kind to yourself. You are not alone. I have the most incredible family and friends in the whole world, and they never make me feel like my anxiety is a burden. I am met with nothing but patience and love and that’s all I need in my life. Surround yourself with people who encourage you to talk about your feelings and don’t ever think that it would be better just kept to yourself. It is not something to ever feel ashamed of. Fill your time with things you enjoy doing and let yourself rest if sometimes it all seems too overwhelming.

I was inspired to write about my experience by some of my gorgeous friends that have been open and honest about their mental health even when it seems so scary to do so. Whether this was privately or publicly, just talking about it makes a world of difference. You know who you are, and I love you so much.

– LS