From the Start.

A Bit of History.

So. There I was. Sitting in assembly aged 13. I was sat in the middle of a massive hallway. With rows and rows of classmates beside, behind, and in front of me. Up until this point, I was fine. I was normal.

It was a large assembly, with about 500 of us all sat there on the floor. All of a sudden, I came over feeling unwell. The head teacher was stood up on the stage. I felt a cold sweat come over me. I looked towards the exit. I would have to stand up, pick my way through a row of classmates, and walk right across the front of the stage in order to get to the exit.

I was frozen with fear. I sat there. Thoughts racing. Do I get up and try and walk out, looking like an idiot in front of half the school, or do I sit there and pray I feel better and don't throw up in front of everyone, making me look an even bigger idiot.

 

To my relief, the assembly ended. A classmate looked at me and asked whether I was alright. I lied and said yes, I was. But I felt traumatised.

 

I muddled through the rest of the day, not knowing that what I suffered was a panic attack. To me, it was a very scary and traumatising event.

 

The next day in school was assembly day again. And, I did it. That thing that we all know we shouldn't do, but at my age, I knew no better. I skipped assembly. I went to the library instead.

 

The following week, I did the same. Id go to registration, then slip away when no one was looking, and went and hid in the library, where I hoped I wouldn't get caught for and sent into the assembly.

 

This continued. Me stressing on assembly days, worrying that I'd get caught for bunking assembly and get myself in trouble, or get sent in there midway through. The stress from this was immense. Twice a week, fretting over getting in trouble or getting caught sneaking off at assembly time. And it went on for months.

 

Before I knew it, I was worrying about classes. We had five lessons throughout the day. Some of those lessons allowed me to sit near the door if needed. Some, I was sat on the opposite side of the room, meaning I'd have to cross the classroom if I needed to 'escape'. I began worrying about these lessons. It was on my mind all day, and all night. I started sneaking off and hiding up in the library for the lessons that involved me sitting across the other side of the room to the door.

 

I didn't know at the time that I was only fuelling the fear. To me, it was a solution to my stress. The worry about having to cross the classroom and look an idiot if I panicked, was gone when I skipped the lessons and sat in the safety of the library.

 

Of course, this led on to me worrying about the other lessons. And situations outside of school. Everywhere I went, I had to sit on the end of a row, and near a door. My parents didn't understand what was wrong with me. They didn't really know or understand about panic attacks. They just saw me demanding that we sit near a toilet, exit, or an easy escape route when we went out. If for whatever reason we didn't, I would have a bit of a meltdown, which involved lots of crying and very low mood.

 

As the months progressed, so did my anxiety. I went from avoiding assembly, to avoiding certain lessons, to avoiding all lessons, to avoiding school altogether.

 

 Before all of this, I loved school. I was what you'd call, 'a geek'. I'd rather read a book or do a puzzle over going out. I'd sit up at night doing crosswords and maths puzzles. I had a small, intimate group of friends. I didn't fit any of the cliques in school. I was more of a lone ranger.

 

Soon, GCSE season was upon us. I had been skipping a lot of classes and missing a lot of school. I was on Prozac, after my  mother took me along to the doctors to try and 'fix me'. The pills didn't work. I felt no different.

I cried every day. Every.Single.Day. Because it seemed endless. As soon as I got through one day, it was bedtime, as like some cruel joke, I'd just have to get up the next day and do it all again.

 

Stress at home was high. I have an older brother and a younger sister. They didn't suffer with any issues like what I did. My parents struggled to understand it. I was terrified of my GCSEs. It would involve being sat in a sports hall, with 300 of my peers. I couldn't choose to sit near the door. I would be sat in a specific seat, and I had no choice over it.

 

I decided I wasn't going to take my GCSEs. I couldn't face sitting in that sports hall. I'd just skip the GCSEs, just so I didn't run the risk of feeling like I did sitting in that assembly. Ironically, I hadn't had another episode like I did in assembly. Of course, I attributed that to the fact that I'd spent the previous few years protecting myself, by avoiding the situations that may trigger that feeling. I spent the years being scared. Scared of being scared. I had a fear of the fear. But I felt I had control over it, because through my avoidance tactics, I was winning the fight against it.

As panic attack suffers know. I wasn't beating the fear. I was winning nothing. All I was doing, was fuelling that fear. Avoiding those situations simply reinforced the thought that those situations were scary and/or dangerous. Avoiding the situations simply confirmed to my brain that it was right. Those situations needed avoiding. They were dangerous.

 

A phonecall from my mother to the school, and it was arranged for me to do my GCSEs in a classroom out of the main sports hall. The relief I felt was immense. I felt I'd beaten the fear again. I'd won again. I hadn't.

 

I entered the class room in which it was arranged I would do my GCSEs in. There were half a dozen or so other kids in there. I knew them all, but didn't know why they were there. On the second or third day, one of the boys came up and sat on my table for a chat before the invigilators arrived for the start of the exam. He was a 'cool kid'. He fit all of the cliques. He was popular, good looking, confident.

He asked why I was taking my GCSEs in the class room, instead of the sports hall with everyone else.

I didn't know what to say. I felt stupid to tell the truth, so I answered simply by throwing the question back at him.

"Why are YOU doing YOURS here?"

He replied with virtually no hesitation. He simply said 'Because I couldn't sit in the big sports hall with all them people, so I was put here...'

Shocked, I replied 'Same!!'.

A cool kid? One from the cool kid clique? From the boys football squad. A high achieving, popular, outwardly confident boy. Yet he appeared to be suffering with exactly the same as me. I wasn't alone! It wasn't just me! It was like a revelation.

 

I wonder what happened to that boy. I wonder if twenty years later, he is still suffering like I am, or whether he managed to get over his.

 

I passed 12 GCSEs with B and C grades. Despite missing most of the last two years of school, I'd passed my GCSEs. School was over. No more classes, no more sports halls, no more assemblies.

 

This meant I could leave those fears and anxieties behind as I left the school gate for the last time right? Wrong!!

I shall continue with more history soon.

Take care of you.
Kirsty.