As Mental Health Awareness Week begins to draw to a close, we have something special to share. A member of the Hydrant team has shared their raw and honest experience of living with anxiety.

This blog speaks about anxiety and panic attacks, so please take care when reading it. There are links to websites at the end who can help if you feel affected by the topics covered.

We hope that by sharing such a personal account of life with anxiety, that others feel less alone in their experiences, and see that there is help available and light at the end of the tunnel.

Finding me – living with anxiety.

Anxiety has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. In adulthood I wore my badge as a self-diagnosed 'people pleaser' with something close to a feeling of pride. It was me; I knew myself well enough to recognise those tendencies, and that was okay.

Until it wasn't.

In the spring of 2023, I was anticipating two quite different things, which combined and brought things to a head. The first was my son going to his first Cub camp. I received the email inviting him at 7.30 in the morning, and out of nowhere I had a panic attack. I dealt with it alone, washed my face, and went downstairs to the usual morning chaos, avoiding eye contact with my husband and painting on the biggest smile possible. Work wise, I was preparing to attend a conference which covered a range of child protection issues. A couple of days after the Cub email I looked at the agenda for the conference and had another panic attack. This time I was at my desk working from home and there was no hiding from my husband. He was obviously concerned, I didn't want to talk, I pushed it all down, washed my face and cracked on.

The conference rolled around, and the problem grew. As I was there, laughing, talking and eating with colleagues inside there was wave after wave of panic. At the conference I avoided sessions by offering to look after our stand... I went to a session on wellbeing and made the inside of my mouth bleed as I was biting so hard to stop the panic attack hitting. I made it to the toilet after the session and let go of all the emotions. Then I washed my face and went back out.

When I got home, I referred myself for support through our work employee support scheme. I spoke to our Head of Communications, Claire about how I was feeling but pushed everything down. I assured her I was fine, and I took on more work to prove this to myself.

I had six sessions of talking therapy and they helped to an extent.

A couple of months later, the panic attacks were back, and Claire referred me to a psychologist 'just for a chat'. I left the session having never felt more seen. It was emotional, I felt vulnerable, but I felt relieved. He explained that the talking therapy may have helped the 'symptoms' of what was going on, but the roots of the problem were still there. He recommended working with a psychotherapist. The wait for these sessions was long but I was so grateful to be receiving this level of support through work at no cost to me.

A meeting with an occupational health nurse triggered a release and everything I had been pushing down came to the surface. I was emotional on a scale I'd never experienced; the tears wouldn't stop. They were dark, scary, out of control days. I was signed off from work which felt like the end of the world.  What pulled me through was the most incredible community of people, including my work colleagues who each gave me small pieces of comfort and the permission to crumble.

One of those people was my colleague, Helen. She always kept in touch and told me consistently it would get better- I didn’t believe her. She listened, didn't judge and was consistently there. She firmly told me to go to my GP and discuss medication. Helen has had personal experience of the benefits medication can bring. I didn't want medication; I didn’t feel like I needed medication- but really, I was scared. I didn’t want to be numbed.

I was given a prescription for Sertraline. I didn't take it. Helen gently encouraged, firm but caring. Eventually I took the first tablet, and the sky didn't fall in. Around five weeks later, there was light at the end of the tunnel. I had a couple of hours where I felt hopeful. Just as Helen had told me. The periods of feeling okay lengthened.

At this point I began weekly therapy sessions. They were tough. We went to places I didn't know existed within me. They wiped me out, but I started to understand why this had happened, why I was the person I was, that there was an alternative to my 'people pleasing' tendencies. I saw a different way to be, and I was exhilarated. The extreme ups and downs of this period were quite intense at times, but I trusted the process.

During this time, Claire was there with me, every step. She went over and above. We talked and talked, and she gave me space to explore who I wanted to be at work, and how I was going to be that person. I am forever grateful to her, my director Richard and incredible colleagues who never let me doubt that my place with them was still there, whenever I was ready to take it up again. My work is incredibly important to me, it defines me in many ways. Letting go was so very hard, but in the end, the choice was taken out of my hands.

Day by day, my confidence in myself grew, I started to get itchy for more, I missed the buzz, the structure, and my colleagues. I gradually returned to work. We had a couple of false starts, but the relationship I'd built with Claire over the previous months came into its own. There was no mask, no painted-on smile, just me, raw and unedited. My colleagues were so patient, kind, and generous. I was determined to show I wasn't 'broken' and that I was still competent, professional, and part of the team. But some days there were tears, and reactions to situations that were driven by my anxiety. It wasn’t easy, but every day I got up and tried again.

Time flew and suddenly twelve months of therapy came to an end. The insight into me, my values, who I wanted to be these sessions gave me will stay with me always. At the age of 41 I found the authentic me. At work, and at home.

At work I now speak up when I have something to contribute rather than keeping quiet in fear of saying something that colleagues I’m a little in awe of disagree with. I accept that I’m going to make mistakes and when I do the people around me don’t think any less of me, they sometimes don’t even notice the mistake! Perhaps most importantly I’ve learnt how to say no and put boundaries in place. Working from home can create a pattern of ‘I’ll just do this’ before logging off….and then it’s 7pm before you know it. Sometimes I do still do this but it’s the exception not the rule. My colleagues have welcomed all of this with open arms. I’ve had some searingly open and honest conversations over the last year and appreciate every single one because they’ve helped me move a little further on this journey.

I don't always get it right – but that’s okay! I am loved, I deserve my space in this world, and I am gloriously imperfect.

If you have made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my story. I've shared this because I want other people to know that it is genuinely okay to not be okay. Even (maybe especially) in policing, it is okay to be vulnerable.   The world will keep turning if you say no sometimes, and the most important thing you can do for yourself is to be honest, talk, and let people help when life starts to feel a little overwhelming.

I have learnt to live alongside my anxiety, and I am grateful to everyone who supported me on that journey.

If you feel affected by the topics covered in this article, or would like support with your mental health, please contact your GP. Alternatively, you can reach out to https://www.mind.org.uk/ or if you work in policing https://www.oscarkilo.org.uk/ is available to support you.