Short Story

This is a personal short story about my journey through anxiety. I wrote this in the hope

to encourage and educate people, to inform them and let other young people know it

does get better. It may be hard to see now but life will return to normal. You will be

stronger than before, braver than before and happier than before. This book is

dedicated to everyone who has helped me get to where I am today.

Chapter one

Footsteps rustle, heart races, figures gather, hands sweating. Grasping for air I

look around. No escape, no exit. Sounds intensify. Children’s laughter is now like a drill

racing inside my head. The smell of freshly baked brownies now turns my stomach. As I

try to engage in conversation, the ability to focus loses all meaning.

There is a stampede of elephants inside my brain, consuming every sense.

Frantically searching, for what I’m not sure. I’ve lost all sense of reality. With trembling

limbs in a spinning world, I run. Although now having raced through what feels like the

length of the Sahara with an already deoxygenated body. I must stay standing. They

can’t know. I won’t let it show. I hear my name, followed by a repeated question, how

are you today´? Great I respond.

I am far away now back in the comfort of my car. The black speckles

cease, my heart now pumping blood back to my organs. As my left hand finds my right,

they hold each other rubbing my fingers as I breathe. The fog has cleared, perception

has returned. I am safe for another few hours.

In a world of presumptions and accusation, find what makes you happy and

don’t let go. It’s a virus I was told, inner ear problems they concluded. After a year of

bloods, doctors, two hospitals and many consultants, the building that was once full of

snowball fights in Winter and walks with friends in Spring and the often-hilarious

student teacher relationship is now a diminished petrifying memory.

Every morning, I open the car door moving against every natural instinct

to get my bag of rocks that I heave over my left shoulder, rotating me slightly,

forcing me to shut my safe place behind and continue on. At the time, I never

knew two brown doors with a silver rectangle with the black paint ‘Pull’ engraved

on it would mean so much. My brain somehow sends a message to my arm to

do as described on the entrance. In my head, I repeat, today will be better,

followed by the classic saying, sticks and stones may break my bones but names

will never hurt me. But somehow my instincts know this is not true.

Now feeling a sense of accomplishment for getting this far I’m walking

towards the classroom. My eyes focused firmly on the ground and my hands welded to

the shoulder pads holding my rocks inside. My legs carry my body to the top left

corner, where I now breathe and look around. Being so early I see on average only

three to five fellow school goers, who also see me back. With my books organised

subject by subject I sit at a desk in the top left corner and wait for my friends. As weeks

pass which feels like months, I fear my instincts were right. It can get worse. I know

longer wait at my desk in the top left corner, but now for the high-pitched frequency

which when heard everyone reluctantly moves. For now, class is good, although

awkward when my name is called and I am expected to respond.

Instincts continue to prove my head wrong after what at this stage must be a

year, but sadly it’s only been two months, three weeks and twenty odd painful days. No

longer do I wait for anything but the end of the day, now I wait for the usual racing

heart, sweaty hands which have gone dry and sore from the constant rubbing and

inedible dizziness. I think of what ye’re doing. On a walk? Asleep on your bed? Or

galloping through a field? Now I can get through the next forty minutes until it begins

again. Now walking is even a task. Moving sends the room into a continuous spin. How

is this my life now? Will it ever be the same? Eventually the problem is found. Little did

I know this was just the beginning of the tall mountain of anxiety.

Chapter 2.

Anxiety is like living with a voice you don’t understand. It knows all your fears and

uses them against you. Soon it’s the loudest voice you hear, soon it’s the only voice you

hear.

Weeks I am locked in invisible chains. Unable to enter the world as the

repercussions are not worth chancing. It is now I realise all the phrases I use

inadequately, as I am at this moment at my whit’s end. I have lost half of my safe

heaven. No longer will I fell the freedom of when we used to run on the beach, no

longer will you be waiting for us behind the door.

At this stage I am physically unable to enter the building I once somewhat enjoyed

and education and after a much-wasted Summer, I make the move to a new building, a

new start. Both anxiousness and excitement battle in my head. as I swing my books

over both shoulders and willingly yet terrifyingly push the entrance.

A week has passed and I soon realise the stampede is still there. Unable to explain

why I grow frustrated, defeated, and conquered. From this point on things get that bit

harder again. The progress I once made is a distant memory. The teachers are helpful,

the students friendly but this feeling still torments me. As soon as I wake I long for the

evening, my hours of freedom. When my concerns are not will I faint on the spot but

instead are you tracking up or is that stride correct for the jump.

The last thing I want is to be the centre of a conversation. I prefer observe from

the outside, although recently it doesn’t seem to be working out this way. A large brick

house with a stone paved drive and flowers in an array of colours. A scent of popery

sweeps through my nose as I enter the tall dark brown oak doors. I sink into an old

green couch observing the small room. Now she is looking for eye contact, so I focus.

This was not the normal chit chat you would have with your neighbour. This woman did

not hold back on the tough questions. For months, I go to this large suburban house

and i have grown accustomed to the smell of lavender in the room.

Progression is slow and for every left foot I put forward, my right disagrees soon

followed again by my influential left. It is frustrating, not enjoying adventures, trips,

simple everyday tasks. It is at this moment I realise progress is not about enhancing

what is right now, but advancing what is to be. Will power and a mixture of motivation

and stubbornness is needed and definitely tested throughout this journey.

Summer is approaching and I am certainly ready to feel less of an outcast who sits

at home to do school work. Confidence grows as the show jumping season begins, as I

am more than ready to put this whole experience behind me. Naive is what I was to

think this was true. It’s not all bad however. The gymkhana’s have begun and happily I

only feel slight panic in the small crowds. On the other hand, once the shows start in

the larger crowds are somehow more intimidating. I am far from what once was but not

yet what I aim to be.

Chapter 3

Disappointment creeps in as the season is not going completely as planned. Four-

wheel drive along a dirt track in the middle of a field, we park alongside a similar box and

jeep. At this point I have three choices give in, give up, or give it all I’ve got. In a wave

that makes me feel as if I’m floating I somehow have entered and returned to the jeep

looking back at a blur. Now I can breathe as we tack up and wait. The rubber in my left

hand, silver steel beneath my left boot, with the suspension in my right leg I leave the

ground and am safe. We move through the crowds again, except now I can start to relax.

My heart still trying to break out of my chest starts to come back to reality. In the warm

up arena, I am concentrated and only partially anxious about our surroundings. Left hind,

left front, hind right, front right. As blades of grass fold beneath us, piercing the earth

with your studs. Contact is gathered as my leather glove slides down your rubber reins,

gliding over each bump. My left boot moves back behind your girth, pressing against

your side. We look at the first jump. The crowd know longer matters, I am in a bubble

free of all panic.

As per usual though, I always make a mistake. A wrong line, in too deep, chipping

in a stride. It is fair to say this is not the best season. Week in week out improvement is

limited. If you’re ever at a loss, just remember why you first began.

Many places I go I want nothing more than to enjoy it, I want to say yes without

playing twenty questions. From little things, such as going into town to bigger things

like the Dublin Horse Show or music venues, it is a constant push and pushing myself to

go. Sometimes I fail but you must learn to take the losses as well as the wins. Wanting

to shake off the panic but also fearing to let go is one of the most difficult things to do.

Outside I smile, jump, laugh and without a doubt this is authentic but in challenging

times this is not what is reflecting on the inside. Inside I may be riddled with the fear of

an attack, inside I usually want to run away.

It’s great to be surrounded by family and friends whether they are human or

pets. Now I am starting to feel a turning point. I see you need to talk even though this

took me a while to figure out. After experiencing new buildings, new methods, I have

learned a new mind set. The fear of feeling exposed, the thought of being vulnerable,

letting people see your struggling is nothing to fear. Accepting help is not a sign of

weakness but strength. Anxiety is a feeling, a thought no different to any other. The

more it is talked about, the less we fuel our fears until, it is no longer capable of using

our fears against us, it is no longer the only voice we hear. Controlling the stampede is

becoming easier. Enjoyment is returning to the simple things and I know believe in time

life does recover even stronger and more improved than before.

Dreams and goals are important but it is more important to turn your dreams into

goals. You should not have to hide away and miss opportunities and experiences. Take

those steps no matter how small and just don’t give in. I may have lost some battles but

I cannot back down or cave in because I want to win the war. If you feel your goals are

drifting, if you can no longer remember why you’re training, practicing, striving for your

opportunity ask yourself… How bad do you crave it?

How bad do you need it?

Do you eat, sleep and dream it?

Because if it is all you want, you have to give it all you’ve got. (reflecting)

I am far from what I once was, When I feel I’m at a loss,

But not yet what I am aiming to be. Remember why I started.

Today I will do what I think If my dreams don’t scare me

I can’t, they're not big enough.

So tomorrow I will do what I know

I can.

It’s not whether I get knocked down I acknowledge

It’s whether I get back up. How far I have come,

And have faith

In how far I can go.

This is a personal short story about my journey through anxiety. I wrote this in

the hope to encourage and educate people, to inform them and let other young people

know it does get better. It may be hard to see now but life will return to normal. You will

be stronger than before, braver than before and happier than before. This book is

dedicated to everyone who has helped me get to where I am today.