Step by Step
Danielle Watson, on the onset of anxiety, and learning to cope

My anxiety began in pre-teen years. Even as a child, my parents depended on me a lot. I’m the eldest of seven children, four brothers and two sisters, so there was a never-ending amount of domestic and other chores to contend with. Worse, my dad was not an easy person to live with. He drank a lot, and came home late. Plus, we didn’t have much money.

Those who know me from infancy say that I was born “reliable”. Hence, certain tasks normally handled by a parent were put to me. I grew up this way, and never complained. Only in later years did I find the courage to wean myself off this responsibility - of making sure that everyone in my family was okay.

The onset of my anxiety was trauma. My grandfather passed away while I was in high school; this was the first death I had ever experienced in my family. The anxiety - trembling fingers, racing heartbeat, difficulty breathing - came on then, but in small doses, so it was never diagnosed or really considered a problem. Though, ensuing circumstances made life - and by extension, my problem, worse; and a few years from then I was diagnosed with “panic disorder.”

When my grandfather passed away, his brothers, most of who lived abroad, were concerned mainly about collecting their inheritance. My grandfather had not legally married my grandmother. Hence, my father was the “bastard” child, so to speak. Funny thing is, he (my grandfather) did not marry the mothers of his other sons either.

Nonetheless, my grandfather’s brothers were determined to seize the assets of the business my grandfather and father built together, without regard for how their actions would affect my family.

I had grown up in this business, and knew it to be ours. It was our livelihood. My parents were no doubt distraught, and because of the nature of the problem, I was put in charge. I handled the court matters; the lawyers would call me, not them. There was a point where I thought we’d lose both the business and the land we built our home on - which would be divided amongst the contesters. Things came to a head whilst at work at my office job. I had never been officially diagnosed as suffering “anxiety”, nor had I researched the topic, so I didn’t know what was happening. My left arm went numb. My body started shaking, and my heart was racing. I lost control of my movements. My work colleagues rushed me to the hospital. I remember bypassing all the other patients.

It was then that I was diagnosed with panic disorder.

I was put on various medications, but as much as they relax you they knock you out. I’ve learnt to take things easy in the morning - to take my time and not rush so that I could handle myself better.

After that incident, I was referred to a psychiatrist who introduced me to group therapy. I learned from others what happened to them and how they handled it. There was one girl who as a teen suffered anxiety but her parents had no idea how to handle her. This reminded me of my parents who were old fashioned in many ways, and didn’t consider “anxiety” a real medical problem, nor did they understand the psychological conditions that brought it on. For three years I was a victim of this disorder. It controlled me. Until I realized that no amount of medication or group therapy was going to get me better. I did not want to be sick, to be a burden upon anyone, or not be able to do my job. I wanted back control of me.

I had much difficulty sleeping. I would worry and obsess about all my problems, responsibilities, and never ending “to do” lists, and wake up in the morning fatigued, or having an attack. When I woke during an attack, I didn’t think I was dreaming. My heart raced, my body hurt, and I was immobile. I’d have my mother on speed dial (I lived with my parents then) and she’d come with water and medication.

Therefore, in mapping my recovery plan, I examined how I fell asleep, and how I managed my mornings. This seemed critical in starting off the day right.

I made some changes. I prayed; I read the Bible before going to sleep, and then when I woke up. Listening to soothing music before bed also helped.

I mastered self-talk. I kept saying to myself, ‘Breathe! You can control this thing if you breathe!’ Remembering to breathe is key, if you want to control your heart rate. Often, anxiety disables you when your heart rate speeds up beyond your control.

I also went to another place. Regardless of how difficult circumstances were, I had to find a way to rest my mind amongst the chaos. I forced myself to “take a break” from life for at least one hour every day, and do something relaxing.

It took three years of constantly practicing these techniques before I got a grip on things. I used to get attacks up to three times per day, now I rarely get one, and when I do, it’s usually triggered by a traumatic event. I had my last big attack on my mother’s death anniversary one year ago.

But now I can handle it, when it comes. The people around me can too. This disorder has helped me educate others on how to deal with persons suffering anxiety.

The women in group therapy contend that friends and family still don’t know what to say to them when anxiety kicks in. Oftentimes, victims are accused of 'faking' or ‘wanting attention’. I'd tell naysayers, "You don’t know what I went through, unless you walked in my shoes." And I tell victims, "Your choices dictate your future."