My name is David Francis and this is how I survived acute anxiety disorder.
This true story shall, in its longer form with references, be published in an American Psychological Journal.
***
In my country Nigeria, there are about 1.5 million persons with anxiety disorder(s).
Nonetheless, there are thousands of students who understand quite clearly what normal anxiety does.
Their brains are filled with angst - before the entrance to exam halls, inside the hall itself, and the days or months that follow till results are released.
Normal anxiety is seen in faces of people who, after submitting their resumè, will have to wait for days or months for an email or a call. It is also seen in the face of a child who waits for the parents, during visiting days at the boarding school.
My anxiety was like all of these and even more!
I watched my life change, and tried to fit in like a jig-saw puzzle into many things. I hoped and expected love, blended with support from friends. They promised to get back to me, since I also helped them when they were in need. They never did.
Meanwhile, one such person I spoke to, later threw a party and invited me; amidst my starving and anger, I still went. From 7:30 am to 3: 00 pm, I go to work. From 3:00 pm to about 1: 00 am, I'm either cooking, blogging, editing books, stories, and articles or ghostwriting, submitting research papers and worrying about the outcome of a recent interview.
I was supposed to begin studies with the Atlantic University, Ph. I got a call and emails from them. I begged, waited for financial help and worried myself into days. Early this year, I was in Victoria Island, Lagos, Nigeria, for a meeting with a writing company.
I couldn't meet the CEO, but I was told to expect a call soonest, since I was qualified. It never came, yet I worried myself into days. Again, I was to resume work with an agent for the United States Visa office in Abuja, Nigeria. All that was left was a call informing me when to come and get my office keys. I waited unending for the call.
In the midst of all these was a sick mother, and friends who never returned my calls nor replied my messages for financial assistance.
There was also my best friend who saw to it that all the frustrations of life, was enough to make us quarrel almost every single week!
I had recurring nightmares, flashbacks, emotional numbing related to a traumatic event that occurred years back. My life seemed to have been halted and fixated about so many things.
Every single night, I asked myself questions. Questions and questions.
The world was now closer to destroying my brain and making me scared of myself. I began to take sleeping pills as my last resort. This continued for more than two weeks. My body became weaker and I started giving unusual excuses for not doing my work.
Nobody ever asked me what was wrong, and why I couldn't sleep at night. Nor was I asked, why I escaped to reading and studying and preparing for classes.
No one asked me to take a break and take care of expectations - the very thing that broke my soul and kept my brain on fire. And because no one did, I decided to ask me questions.
But that was before I thought about my mum and my siblings, as well as my unpublished manuscripts.
I made the bold step to visit a Doctor/therapist. Dr. Osi was so kind enough to counsel me. He also gave me a textbook ("Introduction to Psychology," by C. Coon).
There I read more about Separation anxiety disorder, PSTD, Social anxiety disorder, Selective Mutism, as well as General anxiety disorder, Panic disorder and Obsessive-compulsive disorder.
During and after these lessons, I told myself the following:
❤ that I will never expect anyone to love me, the same way I love them
❤ that if I ever go for any interview again, I will tell myself that I'll be hired, if not it'll be their business/fault
❤ that I will never judge myself again from whether I'm liked or not by people. I will validate me. I will validate my lust.
❤ that I will try my best to take care of my siblings, parents or friends, but I will not feel responsible for all their problems
❤ that I will not believe that true love is true because for humans, every one wants something
❤ that I will not care if I'm hated for my boldness or talents as I would care to be surprised by people
❤ that when I send anyone or group any message, I must archive such messages/persons to avoid staring/waiting for replies.
🎤 I have stopped taking sleeping pills. I have stopped expecting many things from people including love.
🎤 I have made myself believe that humans can make themselves not care about their kind - this way, I allow the element of surprise to lit my heart and inflame my brain with excitement and laughter rather than poison.
For these reasons, I'm a survivor.
In a country where everything is bent on breaking up and there are many who are afraid to speak up, I'm a survivor.
In a country where the streets, rather than the therapist's enclave, carries the burden of illnesses of many kinds, I'm a survivor.
My name is David Francis and I felt I should write this. Maybe I've come to meet grace - the kind that says, "healing is made possible by the first thought of it."
****
All rights reserved. Of course, anyone can read more about anxiety disorder from Google!
This true story shall, in its longer form with references, be published in an American Psychological Journal.
***
In my country Nigeria, there are about 1.5 million persons with anxiety disorder(s).
Nonetheless, there are thousands of students who understand quite clearly what normal anxiety does.
Their brains are filled with angst - before the entrance to exam halls, inside the hall itself, and the days or months that follow till results are released.
Normal anxiety is seen in faces of people who, after submitting their resumè, will have to wait for days or months for an email or a call. It is also seen in the face of a child who waits for the parents, during visiting days at the boarding school.
My anxiety was like all of these and even more!
I watched my life change, and tried to fit in like a jig-saw puzzle into many things. I hoped and expected love, blended with support from friends. They promised to get back to me, since I also helped them when they were in need. They never did.
Meanwhile, one such person I spoke to, later threw a party and invited me; amidst my starving and anger, I still went. From 7:30 am to 3: 00 pm, I go to work. From 3:00 pm to about 1: 00 am, I'm either cooking, blogging, editing books, stories, and articles or ghostwriting, submitting research papers and worrying about the outcome of a recent interview.
I was supposed to begin studies with the Atlantic University, Ph. I got a call and emails from them. I begged, waited for financial help and worried myself into days. Early this year, I was in Victoria Island, Lagos, Nigeria, for a meeting with a writing company.
I couldn't meet the CEO, but I was told to expect a call soonest, since I was qualified. It never came, yet I worried myself into days. Again, I was to resume work with an agent for the United States Visa office in Abuja, Nigeria. All that was left was a call informing me when to come and get my office keys. I waited unending for the call.
In the midst of all these was a sick mother, and friends who never returned my calls nor replied my messages for financial assistance.
There was also my best friend who saw to it that all the frustrations of life, was enough to make us quarrel almost every single week!
I had recurring nightmares, flashbacks, emotional numbing related to a traumatic event that occurred years back. My life seemed to have been halted and fixated about so many things.
Every single night, I asked myself questions. Questions and questions.
The world was now closer to destroying my brain and making me scared of myself. I began to take sleeping pills as my last resort. This continued for more than two weeks. My body became weaker and I started giving unusual excuses for not doing my work.
Nobody ever asked me what was wrong, and why I couldn't sleep at night. Nor was I asked, why I escaped to reading and studying and preparing for classes.
No one asked me to take a break and take care of expectations - the very thing that broke my soul and kept my brain on fire. And because no one did, I decided to ask me questions.
But that was before I thought about my mum and my siblings, as well as my unpublished manuscripts.
I made the bold step to visit a Doctor/therapist. Dr. Osi was so kind enough to counsel me. He also gave me a textbook ("Introduction to Psychology," by C. Coon).
There I read more about Separation anxiety disorder, PSTD, Social anxiety disorder, Selective Mutism, as well as General anxiety disorder, Panic disorder and Obsessive-compulsive disorder.
During and after these lessons, I told myself the following:
❤ that I will never expect anyone to love me, the same way I love them
❤ that if I ever go for any interview again, I will tell myself that I'll be hired, if not it'll be their business/fault
❤ that I will never judge myself again from whether I'm liked or not by people. I will validate me. I will validate my lust.
❤ that I will try my best to take care of my siblings, parents or friends, but I will not feel responsible for all their problems
❤ that I will not believe that true love is true because for humans, every one wants something
❤ that I will not care if I'm hated for my boldness or talents as I would care to be surprised by people
❤ that when I send anyone or group any message, I must archive such messages/persons to avoid staring/waiting for replies.
🎤 I have stopped taking sleeping pills. I have stopped expecting many things from people including love.
🎤 I have made myself believe that humans can make themselves not care about their kind - this way, I allow the element of surprise to lit my heart and inflame my brain with excitement and laughter rather than poison.
For these reasons, I'm a survivor.
In a country where everything is bent on breaking up and there are many who are afraid to speak up, I'm a survivor.
In a country where the streets, rather than the therapist's enclave, carries the burden of illnesses of many kinds, I'm a survivor.
My name is David Francis and I felt I should write this. Maybe I've come to meet grace - the kind that says, "healing is made possible by the first thought of it."
****
All rights reserved. Of course, anyone can read more about anxiety disorder from Google!
Thanks for sharing!
ReplyDelete