Daniel Johnson

Daniel Johnson

I understand now that I have had anxiety throughout my adult life. The world around me has subtly shifted and suddenly discussion of mental health surrounds me, an accepted part of life, where before it was ‘something other people dealt with’. Despite his shift in my ‘bubble’ I am all too aware that the wider perception of mental health is still one of shame and taboo. Until this shame is removed, and mental health issues are given their due recognition and weight I believe people will struggle to come forward and claim the support they truly require. I do recognise however that coming to this fairly self-righteous conclusion has not been a short journey.

For myself I know that my lack of awareness around mental health, and the stigma which I associated with it, directly affected my ability to regulate my own mental health. I did know from the outset that I didn’t like feeling unwell, that when I was unwell I worried more than other people, but that was pretty normal right? Nobody likes to be unwell so what if I was a little overzealous in my concerns. In fact, I was actually just more sensible than everyone else, some people might ignore that cough, fools, I wouldn’t ignore anything. It’s an easy logic and one which I was hardly the first to be guilty of.

People often talk about triggers and an understanding of the meaning of this has become part of our everyday language, regardless I would never say that things triggered me, an odd rash or a dodgy looking mole wouldn't trigger me, I was right to worry, it was rational. Off to the GP I would go and having persuaded them to take my worries seriously, I would be able to resolve that particular concern. I never stopped to wonder whether these ‘triggers’ were becoming more regular or my reactions to them more uncontrollable. I just, like we all do to a greater or lesser extent, focused on the day to day.  Knowing about anxiety as I do now, I may have noticed that I wasn't being entirely rational and maybe I would have found myself a therapist or experimented with coping mechanisms, but anxiety remained something that other people had. My internal image of myself, the person I saw in the mirror, couldn't have anxiety, he was strong, invulnerable, he looked after the people around him, he didn't lean on them. This image of stereotypical masculinity was welded to me despite the fact that I would never consider myself ‘stereotypically masculine,’ it was there.

Regardless of my internal monologue I was approaching a cliff edge, a catalyst, a mega trigger which now seems inevitable, but which completely took me by surprise, mental health issues, me? Ridiculous!

After university I found myself without work, I understand now that the weight and pressure of expectation had crashed around me and as I left London defeated, I was already struggling. I found myself working on my bike for Deliveroo, it was winter, it was dark and cold and wet, and it wasn't long before I was t-boning a care home minibus and finding myself on the other side of the roundabout.  Unexpectedly I was completely unscathed.A wonderful and nameless mother and daughter helped me up, bought me a hot chocolate and off I rode, leaving some unlucky person's dinner scattered across the roundabout.  When I woke up the next day I didn't go to work, everyone agreed I deserved some rest, and I was battered and bruised after all. I didn't go the next day or the next week. My bruises healed but I was convinced I needed longer to rest. Then, just as I was getting ready to get back out on the bike, the pain returned, inexplicably in my chest. Off I went to the GP, 6.30 in the morning there I was, waiting at reception ready for the thankless task of convincing people my worries were reasonable. But this time as soon as I mentioned chest pain everyone listened, their attention surprised and scared me, and their seriousness validated my worries, they seemed worried too. Then when the GP referred me to the hospital my fear grew until I was in a barely controllable panic. 

But again, luck is with me and the hospital declares me healthy and well. He says simply ‘It doesn't appear to be your heart but keep an eye on it’. Nice, simple, relaxed, confident reassurance which should be the end of the story, I smile, say thank you and leave.  But I am over the cliff, the mega trigger has been pulled and I cannot regulate. Outside the hospital I cry, loudly and without control.

I have been given the all clear but the fear, the panic, even the pain, it's all still there and I can't make it go away. So, the only logical explanation for this fear occurs to me: the doctor must be wrong. This of course was the slippery slope and I found myself sliding headfirst down it.

I go home and for the following months this is my life, I stay at home, I don't exert myself, (for fear of my heart rate going up) most mornings I wake up at six and make my very slow walk to the GPs where I ask to see a new doctor, searching for different answers. I spend my afternoons online memorising diagnoses and symptoms to outwit the doctors. I don't understand why they can't see that I am right. Sometimes I get referred to the hospital again, mostly I get sent home. I visit A&E sporadically, mostly in the night, in the early hours when I have entirely convinced myself that my heart is giving up. They begin to recognise me.

Nobody mentions anxiety, nobody mentions mental health. 

It continued in this way for almost a year, eventually I moved back home with my mum. Even I, by this point, have recognised that this may not be a rational worry, I am no longer just more cautious or more sensible than other people. I have anxiety. While I still believe there is something wrong, my confidence is giving way to doubt, and my partner is helping me avoid the internet (an enormous step in the right direction). I don't understand how I have ended up here, back home, stuck in my anxiety, unable to visit my friends for fear of moving too far from a hospital, unable to walk up the stairs quickly for fear of raising my heart rate. It seems a shock to me. 

Here, finally, I return to my point.

I was able, over time and with enormous support, to get my confidence back, to get back on the bike and see that my heart didn't stop, to visit my friends and eventually move back out into the world. My unexplained chest pain, most likely a symptom of anxiety itself, slowly disappeared and me, or at least the version of me I recognise, slowly came back. But it could have been different and if I had been more aware of mental health, more accepting of it, and if I could have seen, as I see now, the signs of anxiety early on, years earlier, I believe I could have avoided the cliff, or maybe just not have fallen quite so far. 

Of course, mental health and my mental health specifically is not a fixed state and I still feel panic rising when I find a lump or see an odd rash but crucially, I can now recognise that for what it is, a message, maybe a message telling me to take some time for myself, maybe a message to see friends or do a breathing exercise. I understand myself and my coping mechanisms just a tiny bit better now and sometimes that is all it takes to make a difference. I believe that through raising awareness of mental health issues, of anxiety, we can pre-empt these cliff edge scenarios or at least reduce their severity. We are told over and over that mental and physical health should be treated in much the same way and with the same degree of focus, this bears repeating. In this way we should all be actively seeking to improve or perhaps understand our mental health pre-emptively rather than assuming that mental health issues are issues which only affect ‘other’ people.

Here, of course, is where I must praise ascnd, they and organisations like them show us the way, they create a space for people to express their concerns and talk them through, to pre-emptively address their anxieties, plus they do all this while getting out on bikes! Crucially if we can set an example of people going out into the world and doing great things, while simultaneously suffering with mental health issues, we can start to take steps towards breaking that stigma which stops so many people from coming forward and speaking out.

Finally, I want to take this moment, while I have the metaphorical stage, to say thank you my to family, my mum who patiently talked me through every new list of symptoms, my sister who always brings me joy and my partner who lived with me throughout, managed to get her degree while I wouldn't leave the bed and without whom I would most likely still be there. 

Much love, 

Daniel