Arts and Anxiety

Guest post!

I have worked in the arts for years. I remember the first time I got on stage and stood in front of an audience. I was 5, and I was in a pink leotard showing off my “good toes, and bad toes” (this is a ballet term for children, where you point and flex your feet).  The arts have been integral to my life, and growth as a person. For a very long time, I enjoyed the aesthetic pleasure that theatre, dance, film and visual art can provide until I started noticing a change in me. When I turned 21, I was thrusted into the BIG WIDE WORLD of “the working life”, which if I’m honest about I was not prepared for. I began to notice that the world wasn’t as easily as I had dreamed of, and no matter how much you plan for life; ultimately life has its own plan. And with that, I felt a change in me. The things that pleased me aesthetically were no longer stimulating me intellectually. So I joined a writers group, and started creating my own shows that dealt with real issues such as identity, race and mental health issues. Putting my thoughts, experiences and feelings on a page helped me to let out all of my pent up frustrations, fears, worries and anxiety. I began to realise the power that the arts has, to help bring social change, raise awareness, highlight real issues and ultimately empower my voice/experience. During 2013, I did a postgraduate in applied theatre, which allowed me to explore, how to use the arts to support and raise awareness on mental health issues and young people. I was amazed to find out that , throughout history the arts has been used as a tool to support the wellbeing of people who have suffered from Depression and Anxiety. But sadly, in more recent years this has now been pushed to the side (due to arts cuts, and new forms of treatment). With this revelation, I became inspired to create my new play “On the edge of me”, which is a Semi autobiographical piece which looks at Anxiety and  Panic attacks.  I hope that through performing and touring my show, I will be able to use theatre as platform to support and raise awareness of these issues. And hopefully encourage others to use the arts as a tool to improve their wellbeing, and empower their voices/stories. I remember reading this amazing quote for Mental health, Psychiatry and The Arts-

‘it is in the participation itself that transformation takes place; whether for healing or learning or both’

On the edge of me has been programmed at the Rich mix, Hifa Festival Zimbabwe and is currently accepting bookings. Please feel free to contact me for more information. 

A journey of depression

Hello, my name is Callum. I'm 19 years old and I experienced my first mental health issue about 18 months ago. I remember it like a light switch in my head. In my younger years, I was confident and regularly participated in social events with friends, got up on stage and was vocal in school classes. Looking back on this part of my life now, it scares me to see how much I've changed. Before I was carefree and now I struggle to talk to new people.
It began in October 2013. I was 17 and was attending a big party, which the whole year of my sixth form was invited to and this might sound cliché but my first instance of depression was triggered by unrequited love; my interest in her was essentially laughed off. I returned home from this party, ended up vomiting and then after a terrible night's sleep I woke up, wishing that I hadn't. I suppose at first I was hoping this was just a phase but these feelings ensued for months. Sixth form was becoming a struggle every day and I'd escape into my own world, headphones plugged in, playing my music so loudly that I couldn't hear what people had to say. I think it was fairly noticeable that I wasn't doing well, but one thing I can say is that these few months really showed me who my friends are.

The Christmas holidays came around and I was still struggling. I often questioned my existence and it was the first time that I self-harmed, punching a wall until I bled. I already wanted to escape Sixth Form, however following a slight public humiliation after continuing to pursue this girl I liked, my depression got worse. Over the holidays alone I lost around tow stone from not eating and had barely said a word to anyone. During this period I was regularly asked by my parents if anything was up, to which I replied with "no everything's fine". My parents had a lot on their plate and I felt that they didn't need my problems. That might sound absurd, but I felt as if I didn't matter to anyone, family included.

In A-levels there was a lot of pressure on exams; an area in which "Old Callum" used to excel. That was certainly not the case come April 2014. With the continued depression and bottling up of emotions teamed with the stress of exams, I broke down. I had my first anxiety attack and it felt horrendous. I was about 10 minutes from school when I turned to my mum and told her I couldn't go in. She seemed a little confused, but I really couldn't go further. After taking me home I sat on the floor of my room and cried listening to music for a few hours. After a few days away from school with anxiety, my Dad dragged me in and I was referred to counselling. It was really useful for this particular time in my life; someone to talk to was what I needed and after a couple of months things were starting to look up. Although I still felt down, there was no more self harm and I was coping with my stress and anxiety levels better than before.

After exams and a summer of ups and downs of equal measure, I embarked on university life. It was a mix of emotions for me. I couldn't wait to leave home, a place I associated with depression but I was scared to meet new people and socialising, especially given that I'm not much of a drinker! I was wrong. Although I was practically silent for the meet and greet event in my accommodation block, I came away with 3 fantastic friends, who I will get the pleasure of living with next year.

Finally, things were getting better. I was enjoying my course, I met amazing people and I was in an exciting new city far away from home. The only problem I faced was that I was still feeling depressed. I couldn't understand why and this drove me to become really angry at myself. It had been a year since I started feeling this way and despite everything being right, I still felt wrong. Although I was grateful that I finally had a friend to talk to who had similar experiences and without whom I'm not sure I could have made it through university.
After another bad winter break and the largest mental breakdown I've suffered to date, I realised something needed to be sorted out. A talk with my friends led me to the GP, after which I got prescribed medication. Afterwards, I called my family and explained what had happened. I wish I had done it sooner as even my dad, who I did not always get on with, was compassionate and understanding. Needless to say my family relationship has improved since.

I'm just shy of a month into my course of medication and despite a few early hiccups things are starting to improve with a few days of clarity, something I haven't felt since the beginning of it all.

I hope my journey has helped you know that you're not alone and I think if I can take anything away from this, it would be to trust those close to you with your mental health issues. Chances are, they will be there for you and a problem shared is a problem halved. I know that it can be tough, but stick at it, it will get better.


Callum.

Losing yourself

Out the whole mental health journey, I've found losing myself as the hardest part. I am no longer the person that I was because my mental health slowly deteriorated and took away the girl I once was, and this holds a pain that is almost unbearable.

I used to be seen as a bright and hard working student. The 'perfect' student who was always doing well and reaped the rewards from her hard work. But as my anxiety got hold, the grades began to drop and people no longer saw me as this "Mary Poppins". The very thing I took pride in was my education and it was slipping through my hands. As I began to lose my education, I began to lose any lust for life. I stopped driving lessons, seeing my friends and even leaving the house. I was always a person that loved going out and exploring new things, but the worse I got, the harder it became to accomplish even the simplest of tasks. As a child, I was always told that I woke up with a big smile on my face. I always laughed and enjoyed myself. But as depression set in, I couldn't laugh anymore, I couldn't smile and I couldn't see any positivity. I was no longer the smiling and optimistic girl.

Even though it pains me to think about this, looking at this from a stronger standpoint has made me review myself as someone that is in reconstruction. Perhaps, this had to happen for me to come out of my shell and to experience new things. I may never be that person again, but I am slowly improving and I think it's for the better. I am proud and almost somewhat accepting of my journey. I know without the tackling of my anxiety, I would still be the Old Amy, stuck inside her comfort zone and now, I am in a much better place. Even though it is really difficult to tackle the things that scare me and the journey has been hell on earth, I am experiencing and enjoying life like never before, and I know without my anxiety journey, I would still be stuck.

Perhaps, after years of losing myself, I am finally finding myself again; a new version of myself too. 

For anyone else who feels lost, it's important to remember that this is a journey that is making you stronger. You are in it now and rather than anxiety robbing you from what you have, you are beating it with all that you have and you are becoming better from it. I know it's hard, almost undesirably hard. But you can do it.

Best Wishes,