This is a piece I’ve been meaning to write for a while, having been inspired by Isabel Hardman’s powerful piece about depression. Two recent events, which I’ll come to later, finally convinced me to do it.
It’s about struggling with panic disorder and health anxiety.
I’ve been a hypochondriac my entire life. Ever since I can remember I’ve catastrophized the slightest twitch, headache, and skipped heartbeat into some form of terminal illness. If you don’t have hypochondria, it’s difficult to describe how awful it can be. But despite the odd sleepless night, it wasn’t something which interfered too much with daily life.
All that changed in my final year of university. A friend and I decided to go for a late evening run. We were almost home when my heart started racing at an incredible speed and I collapsed on a verge, not far from Oxford train station. To say I was terrified is an understatement, I was convinced I was about to die. A passing policeman called a paramedic who wired me up to a portable ECG. Thankfully, by the time he had my heart rate had returned to normal and after deciding I didn’t want to go to hospital he dropped me off home with a promise I’d go to the doctors the next day. A few months later hospital check-ups revealed the heart racing was caused by a benign condition and that I was physically well.
Unfortunately, the mental impact of the event wasn’t so benign. I convinced myself that it was going to happen again, that I’d suddenly collapse, and this time have a full blown heart attack. Then I started imagining it happening, I’d suddenly find myself with a rising feeling of panic, my heart would start racing, I’d sweat profusely and feel dizzy, wracked with a sense of dread. All classic panic attack symptoms. The attacks usually came on when I was in a situation I couldn’t easily escape from — dinner in a restaurant, sitting in a lecture and by far worst of all on public transport, buses, and trains and the tube. They would be made worse by my worry that other people would notice and it’d create some sort of scene.
Over the coming months the rate and intensity of the attacks got worse. I found I could stop them by going home or having a glass of wine, but clearly that wasn’t a long term solution. Eventually, I was diagnosed with a panic disorder and referred for cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) and thanks to an excellent therapist I got enough control to be able to take my finals and do well.
Leaving Oxford for London set everything back. My CBT stopped and I couldn’t face having to explain everything to a new therapist. In Oxford I’d been able to get everywhere on foot, in London I had no choice but to get public transport, a tube and a train every single day. As a student I’d been able to take things at my own pace if I was feeling a bit panicky, now with a full time job that just wasn’t possible. All of this created a vicious cycle making my panic much worse. By the time I’d been in London a month or so, I was having multiple panic attacks a day, going to and from work. I was jumping off trains at random stations and having to get cabs into work (not really sustainable on the salary of a junior think tank researcher).
One day it all got too much and I took the day off work. My then boyfriend encouraged me to go for a walk to the park and to get some fresh air, I made it no more than 150 metres from the house before I started panicking and had to go back inside. Another time I was shaking so much I had to get off a bus in Vauxhall and call a friend to come and find me. Things were really bleak, it wasn’t just public transport now, but pretty much anywhere in public. A GP prescribed beta blockers, but because of my hypochondria I was too scared to take them. It’s hard to describe quite how debilitating it is convincing yourself you are about to die multiple times a day. Looking back I wonder how bad things could have become if nothing had changed.
Thankfully they did. I switched jobs after 5 months going to work at Stonewall. Whereas I hadn’t told my previous employer about my anxiety attacks, this time I did. It was one of the best decisions I have made. My then boss, Ruth Hunt helped me to find ways, to take back control, small things, like coming into work slightly later to avoid the rush hour crush or setting off to work events earlier so I could walk and avoid the tube. She made the suggestion I move closer to work and that helped immensely. As it was, the fact I didn’t have to get public transport made me more able to use it. I did a lot of self-study CBT and over time the panic faded away.
It hasn’t entirely gone away, a couple of years ago I saw a man having a fit on a train, and for some weeks afterwards the panic attacks returned, I thought the same was going to happen to me. The difference was his time I felt better prepared to cope and able to use CBT to diffuse attacks. I still find the tube uncomfortable and still avoid it if I can, especially if I’m tired which can bring on panic attacks.
But for the most part I’m fine. From worrying when I first started in London whether I’d be able to hold down a job, I went on to lead Stonewall’s Education Team and then became a Special Advisor (as it happens my former boss Nicky Morgan is one of the most tireless advocates for greater mental health support) and now I’m Director of Corporate Strategy in Ofsted. On a more prosaic note I’ve gone from being scared of raising my heart rate in the slightest, to to going to the gym several times a week. Of course, I know I’m lucky, plenty of people anxiety disorders don’t get help they need, but I’m heartened that all political parties are pledging to do more and invest more in mental health.
I said at the beginning there were two reasons I decided to write this. One of them was attending pride this past weekend in London. It might sound corny, but it reminded me of the importance of being honest about who you are. I’ve spent over half my career working in equalities and throughout I’ve stressed the importance of role models. As an adult, I’ve never had a problem being open about my sexuality. I’m proud to be a gay man. But being open about mental health has always felt much harder.
The second reason was Transport for London’s decision to launch a new tube map for people that suffer from anxiety. The new map shows which bits of tube lines are above and below underground. For most people that won’t be a big deal, but for someone who’s suffered from panic disorder I think it’s an incredible step forward. Not just because people who struggle with anxiety will be able to better plan their journeys to avoid going through claustrophobic tunnels. But even more importantly for me a major organisation has recognised anxiety as an issue faced by some of their customers, and has done something about it. My thinking is this, if they can do that then I can be open about being someone that suffers from anxiety attacks, and now hopefully I’ll be able to help in pushing others to follow their example.
