suzannacorfu
11-07-10, 14:58
This is dedicated to any family and friends of GAD, HA and PA sufferers. But others can join in too of course!
Family/Friend: "PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!"
Me: "I will do! Just as soon as this heart attack has passed…!"
Anxiety
From the Latin anxietatem (for what it’s worth!) Turbamentum Anxietatem Generalis which, although I agree sounds like a climbing plant, is in fact the Latin for Generalised Anxiety Disorder. Useful stuff you say! You will thank me though if you ever meet a toga-clad Roman in your local Tescos you will be one of the very few able to say:
“Valeō Brute!Habeō Turbamentum Anxietatem Generalis that is why I am holding on to this trolley with whitened knuckles, gritted teeth and a face the colour of your Ariel-white toga…”
So, what is Anxiety?
Parenthesis: you may be wondering why I use a capital “A”? To give it more substance of course! I mean who on earth would want to suffer from "anxiety'? It’s bad enough feeling a failure for suffering from "Anxiety". I couldn’t possibly cope with suffering from just "anxiety"!)
Anxiety is “a state of apprehension, uncertainty, and fear resulting from the anticipation of a realistic or fantasized threatening event or situation, often impairing physical and psychological functioning.” The relevant word here is “anticipation”. It is an anticipatory fear. There is no actual threat. One would assume that at least 99.9% of the human race would feel overwhelming fear, with its consequential physical manifestations, on coming face to face with a hungry male lion when turning the corner of the Breads & Cakes aisle in the Supermarket on their way to Frozen Foods. Well I assume this to be the case anyway. (The point one percent who do not are probably suffering from some other sort of mental disorder and to be honest with you I think I’d rather suffer from something that 8% of the population suffer with then be in the 0.1% group). People with Anxiety feel exactly like this… but without the lion.
Sorry? What was that I heard? A derogatory “Hum..ph”? Is that a curled lip I see? Yes, we too hum..ph and curl our lips at ourselves. We do NOT need your disdain as well thank you very much!
What is it like to go shopping for a Sufferer (yes, there’s the capital letter again) of Anxiety? Well OK. Here it is:
At home looking in fridge; see nothing edible.
“Oh God, have to go to the supermarket!”
Hands sweat.
Internal monologue starts:
“As the automatic sliding doors open a rush of frozen air will hit me, muscles will scrunch up. I’m gonna DIE. Walk in and bright strip lighting will make me have trouble seeing properly. I’m gonna DIE. Grab trolley, I’m gonna DIE. Start off with trolley, getting further and further away from the exit, I’m gonna DIE. Am at the beginning of the shopping list, there’s going to be a humungous queue ate the checkout, I’m gonna DIE.”
Decide not to eat as it’s easier. Remember that you have kids/other half/dog/cat that NEEDS to eat even if you don’t.
I HAVE TO GO TO THE SUPERMARKET! AAAAAAaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! I’M GONNA DIE!
OK, I can do this. I can do this. Get into car. Heart beating slightly faster. Hands clammy. Internal monologue chattering away. Listen to relaxation tape in car. What a load of CRAP! Yes, I will relax once I get home.
Arrive at Supermarket. Can’t find parking space exactly outside the exit so drive around and around for 10 minutes waiting for a space near the exit to free up. This obviously because if I don’t die inside the Supermarket then I most definitely will if I have to walk 43 steps back to the car afterwards. That is if I can remember where the car is by then in my total adrenaline-fed confusion.
Find parking space after having beat a disabled person to it at the last minute.
Take a deep breath. Find you can’t take one because you are now not breathing properly anymore. What feels like 1cc of air trickles into your oxygen-starved lungs. Whole body is now as taut as a bow and left arm is starting to tingle. Obviously the start of your heart attack. The only real question is whether or not your family will ever find your body…(pleeeeeeeeeease let me die in the Frozen Food section where at least my body will be preserved until they can come find me!)
Walk through the sliding doors. Yep! There it is that frozen air. Musculoskeletal system does an amazing impression of a frozen Xmas turkey and off you go, walking like a wind-up toy soldier. Can’t look left or right because vertigo will hit so you stare straight ahead. Of course by now the pulse rate is up in the low 300s, blood pressure has hit 20/20 which is supposed to be your sight but this too has gone and you now have tunnel vision, black floating spots in your eyes which are exacerbated by the blinding lights overhead. “Breathe in, breathe out” used to be reserved only for blondes but as all Anxiety sufferers know this mantra is the difference between life and death. If you don’t remind yourself…
You march down the aisle to meet your destiny. By this time there is enough adrenaline coursing through your system to fuel a whole tribe of Pygmies in flight from a pack of Hyenas. Your lips are now completely numb and you cannot speak because there is no air inside you. You throw whatever comes to hand into the trolley and your mind is set obsessively on your goal: THE CHECKOUT. “Let the buggers starve” is your philosophy regarding your loved ones by now! “Just let me outta here!” You push that trolley up one aisle, down the other grabbing whatever you can without looking and make for the exit trying in the meantime to count how many things you have in the trolley. “Will I make it through the ’10 Items Only’ till?” Damn! 11 things there! You make an on the spur of the moment decision between the sliced ham and the birdseed…(BIRDSEED????? What the F***? I don’t have a bird!!!) the ham loses and off it goes into the basket of 6 for 1 packs of batteries. “YESSSSSSSSSSSS! 10 items!!!” You run down any old and infirm people in your way and make it to the checkout.
THERE ARE FOUR PEOPLE IN THE LINE AHEAD OF YOU.
You stand behind them and try to calm yourself. Your mind is saying: “I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m GONNA DIE!” And it really does feel like you ARE gonna die. Whole body is shaking, eyes wild, breathing short and shallow, no feeling in your legs by now. And then the worst possible thing happens… someone comes and gets into line behind you!!!!!!!!! NOW YOUR TRAPPED. Your mind is in an absolute state of panic. Your brain is screaming at you to just leave the damn trolley and contents and get the F*** out of here but some small part of you really doesn’t want to do this. Oh the shame! How embarrassing. How weak. All around you are happy-go-lucky couples, kids, old people and all of them are coping with a simple everyday occurrence: shopping at the supermarket. In fact some are even enjoying themselves. Sauntering around the place, browsing through the merchandise, stopping for a chat with other shoppers. Laughing and joking.
Of course all of this just makes it worse for you…
You’re still there in the queue. Hanging on for dear life. Just one person ahead of you now. “Come on, I can do this. Not long now”.
Then the unimaginable happens: you’re stuck behind a ditherer and you know what’s even worse? A bloody chatty ditherer, that’s what! Her purchases are through, beep, beep, beep. Each blessed “beep” of the scanner brings you closer to freedom. You want to go around her and put her stuff in bags for her to speed things up and get yourself within smelling distance of freedom at the same time. The cashier tells her: “That’s 23 pounds 66 pence please”. She responds with those DREADED words: “Oooooooo, I think I have the 16 pence dear. Would that help?”
“NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOO you silly COW it will NOT help!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Just get the **&%% out will you? I’m DYING here!!”
But no, she just placidly starts to rummage around inside her purse through the chewing gum wrappers and fluff for the sixteen f***ing pence!”
All the while you are just begging the Lord that the cashier doesn’t ask her if she wants to cash in her money check from the points she’s collected.
Finally she goes, sped on her way by your albeit silent malicious wishes of imminent death and destruction upon her and her family.
You’re up! You speed your 10 purchases through and have them in the bags before the last “Beep” has sounded, snatching them from the cashier’s hand: Beep; snatch, in-the-bag, beep; snatch; in-the-bag.
You have the money ready in your tight fist having spent the wait trying to add up the total so that you can be out of there 1 millisecond faster warbling “Keep the change!”
That’s it: you’re out!!!!!! You get into the car and just melt into the seat. A complete and utter jumble of jagged nerves, sore muscles. Now the internal monologue changes:
“What a failure you are! What a waste of space. How shameful! What a fool…”
Sorry it was so long guys...
Thanks for being here for me.
Suz
Family/Friend: "PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!"
Me: "I will do! Just as soon as this heart attack has passed…!"
Anxiety
From the Latin anxietatem (for what it’s worth!) Turbamentum Anxietatem Generalis which, although I agree sounds like a climbing plant, is in fact the Latin for Generalised Anxiety Disorder. Useful stuff you say! You will thank me though if you ever meet a toga-clad Roman in your local Tescos you will be one of the very few able to say:
“Valeō Brute!Habeō Turbamentum Anxietatem Generalis that is why I am holding on to this trolley with whitened knuckles, gritted teeth and a face the colour of your Ariel-white toga…”
So, what is Anxiety?
Parenthesis: you may be wondering why I use a capital “A”? To give it more substance of course! I mean who on earth would want to suffer from "anxiety'? It’s bad enough feeling a failure for suffering from "Anxiety". I couldn’t possibly cope with suffering from just "anxiety"!)
Anxiety is “a state of apprehension, uncertainty, and fear resulting from the anticipation of a realistic or fantasized threatening event or situation, often impairing physical and psychological functioning.” The relevant word here is “anticipation”. It is an anticipatory fear. There is no actual threat. One would assume that at least 99.9% of the human race would feel overwhelming fear, with its consequential physical manifestations, on coming face to face with a hungry male lion when turning the corner of the Breads & Cakes aisle in the Supermarket on their way to Frozen Foods. Well I assume this to be the case anyway. (The point one percent who do not are probably suffering from some other sort of mental disorder and to be honest with you I think I’d rather suffer from something that 8% of the population suffer with then be in the 0.1% group). People with Anxiety feel exactly like this… but without the lion.
Sorry? What was that I heard? A derogatory “Hum..ph”? Is that a curled lip I see? Yes, we too hum..ph and curl our lips at ourselves. We do NOT need your disdain as well thank you very much!
What is it like to go shopping for a Sufferer (yes, there’s the capital letter again) of Anxiety? Well OK. Here it is:
At home looking in fridge; see nothing edible.
“Oh God, have to go to the supermarket!”
Hands sweat.
Internal monologue starts:
“As the automatic sliding doors open a rush of frozen air will hit me, muscles will scrunch up. I’m gonna DIE. Walk in and bright strip lighting will make me have trouble seeing properly. I’m gonna DIE. Grab trolley, I’m gonna DIE. Start off with trolley, getting further and further away from the exit, I’m gonna DIE. Am at the beginning of the shopping list, there’s going to be a humungous queue ate the checkout, I’m gonna DIE.”
Decide not to eat as it’s easier. Remember that you have kids/other half/dog/cat that NEEDS to eat even if you don’t.
I HAVE TO GO TO THE SUPERMARKET! AAAAAAaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! I’M GONNA DIE!
OK, I can do this. I can do this. Get into car. Heart beating slightly faster. Hands clammy. Internal monologue chattering away. Listen to relaxation tape in car. What a load of CRAP! Yes, I will relax once I get home.
Arrive at Supermarket. Can’t find parking space exactly outside the exit so drive around and around for 10 minutes waiting for a space near the exit to free up. This obviously because if I don’t die inside the Supermarket then I most definitely will if I have to walk 43 steps back to the car afterwards. That is if I can remember where the car is by then in my total adrenaline-fed confusion.
Find parking space after having beat a disabled person to it at the last minute.
Take a deep breath. Find you can’t take one because you are now not breathing properly anymore. What feels like 1cc of air trickles into your oxygen-starved lungs. Whole body is now as taut as a bow and left arm is starting to tingle. Obviously the start of your heart attack. The only real question is whether or not your family will ever find your body…(pleeeeeeeeeease let me die in the Frozen Food section where at least my body will be preserved until they can come find me!)
Walk through the sliding doors. Yep! There it is that frozen air. Musculoskeletal system does an amazing impression of a frozen Xmas turkey and off you go, walking like a wind-up toy soldier. Can’t look left or right because vertigo will hit so you stare straight ahead. Of course by now the pulse rate is up in the low 300s, blood pressure has hit 20/20 which is supposed to be your sight but this too has gone and you now have tunnel vision, black floating spots in your eyes which are exacerbated by the blinding lights overhead. “Breathe in, breathe out” used to be reserved only for blondes but as all Anxiety sufferers know this mantra is the difference between life and death. If you don’t remind yourself…
You march down the aisle to meet your destiny. By this time there is enough adrenaline coursing through your system to fuel a whole tribe of Pygmies in flight from a pack of Hyenas. Your lips are now completely numb and you cannot speak because there is no air inside you. You throw whatever comes to hand into the trolley and your mind is set obsessively on your goal: THE CHECKOUT. “Let the buggers starve” is your philosophy regarding your loved ones by now! “Just let me outta here!” You push that trolley up one aisle, down the other grabbing whatever you can without looking and make for the exit trying in the meantime to count how many things you have in the trolley. “Will I make it through the ’10 Items Only’ till?” Damn! 11 things there! You make an on the spur of the moment decision between the sliced ham and the birdseed…(BIRDSEED????? What the F***? I don’t have a bird!!!) the ham loses and off it goes into the basket of 6 for 1 packs of batteries. “YESSSSSSSSSSSS! 10 items!!!” You run down any old and infirm people in your way and make it to the checkout.
THERE ARE FOUR PEOPLE IN THE LINE AHEAD OF YOU.
You stand behind them and try to calm yourself. Your mind is saying: “I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m GONNA DIE!” And it really does feel like you ARE gonna die. Whole body is shaking, eyes wild, breathing short and shallow, no feeling in your legs by now. And then the worst possible thing happens… someone comes and gets into line behind you!!!!!!!!! NOW YOUR TRAPPED. Your mind is in an absolute state of panic. Your brain is screaming at you to just leave the damn trolley and contents and get the F*** out of here but some small part of you really doesn’t want to do this. Oh the shame! How embarrassing. How weak. All around you are happy-go-lucky couples, kids, old people and all of them are coping with a simple everyday occurrence: shopping at the supermarket. In fact some are even enjoying themselves. Sauntering around the place, browsing through the merchandise, stopping for a chat with other shoppers. Laughing and joking.
Of course all of this just makes it worse for you…
You’re still there in the queue. Hanging on for dear life. Just one person ahead of you now. “Come on, I can do this. Not long now”.
Then the unimaginable happens: you’re stuck behind a ditherer and you know what’s even worse? A bloody chatty ditherer, that’s what! Her purchases are through, beep, beep, beep. Each blessed “beep” of the scanner brings you closer to freedom. You want to go around her and put her stuff in bags for her to speed things up and get yourself within smelling distance of freedom at the same time. The cashier tells her: “That’s 23 pounds 66 pence please”. She responds with those DREADED words: “Oooooooo, I think I have the 16 pence dear. Would that help?”
“NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOO you silly COW it will NOT help!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Just get the **&%% out will you? I’m DYING here!!”
But no, she just placidly starts to rummage around inside her purse through the chewing gum wrappers and fluff for the sixteen f***ing pence!”
All the while you are just begging the Lord that the cashier doesn’t ask her if she wants to cash in her money check from the points she’s collected.
Finally she goes, sped on her way by your albeit silent malicious wishes of imminent death and destruction upon her and her family.
You’re up! You speed your 10 purchases through and have them in the bags before the last “Beep” has sounded, snatching them from the cashier’s hand: Beep; snatch, in-the-bag, beep; snatch; in-the-bag.
You have the money ready in your tight fist having spent the wait trying to add up the total so that you can be out of there 1 millisecond faster warbling “Keep the change!”
That’s it: you’re out!!!!!! You get into the car and just melt into the seat. A complete and utter jumble of jagged nerves, sore muscles. Now the internal monologue changes:
“What a failure you are! What a waste of space. How shameful! What a fool…”
Sorry it was so long guys...
Thanks for being here for me.
Suz