Me and My Anxiety

So, yesterday I went swimming for the first time in two years.

And it was an early morning swim - as soon as the pool opened


Should be lovely, shouldn’t it? After all, I can swim. I used to do it regularly.


Only I got worked up.

I got worked up for a number of reasons – what if I missed my alarm? What if it was too busy? What if I mis-calculated the time I had to get out and had to rush for or miss my train? What about the actual swimming – what if I was too slow, or had forgotten how to do it? What if I had an incident and nearly drowned? What if I took my clothes off and was ugly?


Of course, none of this came to pass. I got up on time, was well organised, arrived at the pool 5 minutes before it opened, changed efficiently, picked the correct lane, swam appropriately fast, did my 100 lengths well in time without even a cough or splutter, got out and made it to the train well in time. And yet I’m intending on doing the same tomorrow and already I’m anxious.


You will recall that I used to lunchrun? My million metre target. Almost every day for 20 months I did this, almost every day for 20 months I got anxious at around 12:50. Similar anxiety – that I would take too long getting changed, not give myself enough time to run, that I’d look silly. I mean, for goodness sake – I ran on my own around reasonably secluded lakes, if I suffered any anxiety it should have been that I’d do myself a mischief and not be found for three days.


This morning I received a phone call from a withheld number. I was tempted to just let it go to answerphone; but that’s how it wins, how it gets worse. So – nervously – I answered. It was only my doctor giving me the phone number of the hospital for me to make an appointment. That will be a phone call which will give me anxiety when I have to make it – I’ve already put it off for 2 hours. What will I say? What if it’s not the correct department? What if I have to leave an answermachine message (I am notoriously bad at these because I panic, stutter, stumble and forget).


It seems to be getting worse, which worries me. I barely answer the phone at work unless I know the number. Even last night I got myself all anxious about doing DIY – I’m stripping the stairs of paint. I’ve been doing it for a few weeks now – a couple of hours a night, a couple of nights a week. But still I get anxious thinking about starting: getting changed, actually cracking on with the work.


Now, I realise fully that my suffering is nothing compared with some other people. Some people suffer panic attacks that see them hospitalised or passing out. Some people find their anxiety so debilitating that they cannot leave the house. Currently I’m able to grow a pair of balls and just knuckle down and get it done – there are people that can’t do that, or at least not unmedicated.


The problem is if it gets worse. As I say, I avoid answering the phone at work. Unfortunately in my workplace conference calls spread worse than the most contagious rash. I’ve tried explaining that I prefer doing things over email – giving me the time to consider the implications of the changes being made – but they insist upon conference calls to get the matter sorted quickly. Fortunately I can usually sit back and let someone else take the lead, but sometime it is something I have to do and it makes me stressed.


Anyhow, I have to go and make that call…