The Master of My Own Recovery From Panic Attacks and Agoraphobia.

Taking Back Control.

I was discharged from the mental health hospital, knowing it was time to take control of my own health. I was prescribed 5mg diazepam three times a day upon my discharge, and was referred to the home treatment team, who's job it was to help me keep out of hospital.

 

I didn't take the diazepam as prescribed, but rather, took them as and when I felt I needed them. I had a months worth. What was I supposed to do when they ran out? I felt I'd rather keep hold of them, and just use them when I got into a situation where I needed them.

They stayed in my bag for two years!!

 

I returned home, but I just didn't feel comfortable there. I lived on a busy main road, there was always heavy traffic outside, I was flanked by traffic lights either end of the road, and at rush hour in particular, I felt very 'trapped' there. Trapped by the traffic that was essentially locking me in.

It was April. I stayed at my parents house, until in June, I moved into our new home, tucked away up the end of a peaceful little cul de sac. After several thousand pounds, and several months of renovation, we were ready to move in. I was on my own now with three kids. Tommy had gone off with the bit on the side he had been seeing previously. Her and his lovechild clearly didn't make him happy, I heard through the grapevine that they lasted about two weeks in the end, and that even now, over two years later, he is still single.

This was it. It was just me and the kids. Our new lives were starting.

 

The first night in the new house was a strange one. It was the first time I had been in my own home to sleep for several months. The house is situated within walking distance of my parents and siblings, and getting off that main road made me feel at ease. I went to bed nervous, but slept through, and from then on, I have never looked back.

 

In two years, the house has almost become a prison. I don't like describing it as that, as actually, I still love the house just as much today as I did when I moved in. But its almost like a mental prison, in that my agoraphobia means I am confined within it.

 

Following my discharge from hospital, I had one visit a week from a member of the home treatment team, who gave me small tasks to do, and gave me the mindset to try and break those barriers. And briefly, it worked. Until she was redeployed to another area, and her role was closed down. With that, went my weekly support which helped massively.

 

So. I was on my own. That said, I was quite happy with my little confinement. I bought a marine tank, which took up a heck of a lot of my time. I joined Facebook groups for people who kept marine reefs, and got talking to loads of lovely people. Some of whom now I consider to be true friends. More about that in a later blog.

 

I have a small local shop that I am able to get to. The kids' schools are within walking distance. There is a park less than 30 seconds away to walk the dogs on. But that's it. Those are my new confines. I didn't HAVE to go further than that, so didn't. Or haven't. Whilst living inside this tiny 0.5 square mile is maintainable, it is no sort of a life.

 

I'm finally bringing the blog up to date. I shall write in real time. I am attempting mindfulness and exposure therapy, which I shall blog as I go. I am also now back under secondary mental health care, and have a support worker who I met just yesterday. She is great, a really lovely lady. She offered to take me out for a walk. I originally kicked and screamed internally about it. But I sucked it up, knowing I could turn around at any point and come home if I needed to. And off we went. We walked slowly, with her working hard to keep me distracted. And we walked for about 5 minutes out. A slow paced 5 minutes, so the distance wasn't too great. However, it is further than I have walked in two years since living here. Usually I drive everywhere as I feel much less anxious in the car. I did the walk with the support worker, with some discomfort, but nothing unmanageable. I did it! I pushed that mental boundary, I smashed the comfort zone! She had only met me that morning, yet she was beaming, and saying how proud she was of me. Not half as proud as I was of myself! Two whole years of being scared to walk that far, and all of a sudden, slowly but surely, I did it!!
The support worker left, and I was still on a massive high. So much so...that I only went and did the walk again, on my own!! This time the anxiety was much higher. I didn't have her as a distraction. I only had my mind, which was thinking all sorts. But, I did it! Anxiously, I did it!!

That was yesterday. Today, I woke up wanting to break another comfort zone. So I walked the same distance, but in the other direction. I walked up the road rather than down it. I had a target in mind, and made it. I only just made it, admittedly, but I made it nonetheless. Again, somewhere I hadn't walked in two years since being here, yet there I was! It was quite surreal! I used the mindfulness techniques I had learnt, which helped immensely. I turned around and started making the journey towards home, but whilst I was out, I thought I may as well do yesterdays walk again too. So off I went, past mine, and back down the road. And again, I did it. That was the third time I had done that very short walk, but this time, it was much easier. Barely no anxiety compared to yesterday. So I returned home feeling very pleased.

 

It is pitiful really. Such a small small walk. Literally about a minute each way at a normal pace. But mentally, it is a huge leap forward, and one I hope to continue to build on. Perhaps this is the finally the start of my recovery? I hope so!