The earliest memory I have of hearing the word anxiety takes me back to when I was 6 years of age and I was hit by a car with the driver drunk behind the wheel. I was dumbfounded and the world beneath my feet had been pulled. As a kid, I immediately became nervous at pedestrian crossings and crossing roads. I would cling to my parent’s as I walked with them. I would also have nightmares of that red car and my bloody clothes being cut from me by hospital staff in Temple Street.
I grew up in the Ballymun flats and conveniently my primary school was near my block. In primary school, I was a reserved kid, but as soon as I went home I came to life. I excelled academically, and outside of school I excelled creatively, always writing poems and stories, but I excelled even quicker musically, quickly learning how to read music and play compositions by Bach and Mozart on my Piano accordion. Every Tuesday I would go to band practice, my Ma and Da would take turns bringing me. It really did have an amazing impact on my young life. Before I knew it, I was performing with the local youth band, even getting my own solo piece on Christmas Eve in the local church, and entering national competitions. I remember in 3rd class the teacher passed around an application for a talent show in RTE called Star Streamers, I brought it home to show my ma, I was instantly excited, it brought me to the audition rooms of RTE. I was always competitive I had to be the best at everything in school from my times-tables to sports. I had to run the fastest and I always had to beat the boys. Despite being hit by the drunk driver and the impact it had on me, I was lucky to have had such a wonderful childhood and two loving parents and a doting little sister who was 3 years younger than me.
Four years after my accident, aged 11, I had my first brush with grief. It changed me. My grandad and uncle had passed away that year and I was due to start secondary school the following year. I distinctly remember crossing the road one day, and the world came from under the feet and threw me on my face. I didn’t understand what was happening to me, I just knew I didn’t like the feeling of it and I was all over the place. I was experiencing all the symptoms that come with a panic attack. During this time, I was going through a lot of changes, my family had moved out of the Ballymun flats into a 3 storey house as part of Ballymun regeneration scheme, and before I knew it I was starting in the local secondary school.
When I started secondary, I immediately started on the wrong foot, I couldn’t navigate my way around corridors or sit still in classrooms without experiencing horrible symptoms like dizziness, sweaty hands, palpitations and shaking. I couldn’t concentrate at all. I was honestly clueless because it had never happened in primary school and I was referred to the school guidance counsellor, she assumed I had panic attacks. The cause? Unknown. I remember during this time my father was particularly worried about me. He would walk me to school, but I would get embarrassed because I genuinely didn’t want other students to see me.
After my 1st year in school. I made some great friends who were nothing but supportive, they made me feel comfortable and they looked out for me. During school, I became withdrawn and I experienced bullying, mostly verbal. But I remember one particular incident. A boy flicked a lighter and put the flame to my hair as I was walking through a corridor, my ponytail went up in a flame and had been singed from the burn. It deeply affected my confidence. I was tall for my age and I had really bad skin. My self-esteem took an awful knock. Most of my teen years were spent self-loathing, battling the demons that I had been dealt with. I became confused, isolated and frustrated with this issue. I had always been a creative person, with music and writing quickly becoming my sanctuaries and the only way I felt like myself, it allowed me the escape from the daily battle of feeling weak due to my what I considered a weird problem but didn’t understand. Throughout my teen years, I developed many mechanisms to disguise or hide my anxiety and my depression. It wrapped around me like poison to the point it affected my schooling and eventually ended up affecting my academic performance drastically. I did the best I could.I was a quick learner but had no confidence.
When I was 14 my dad brought me to my first concert with a friend, Enrique Iglesias. He had me on his shoulders so I could see Enrique and I even recall him throwing his cap on stage and Enrique putting it on his head. My da was experiencing his own health problems and he was diagnosed with the hospital bug MRSA. I remember on one occasion visiting him in the hospital wearing gloves and a mask. He pleaded with me to make sure I went to college. Little did I know it was to be one of our last chats. He passed away 6 weeks later. My world did a 360 and before I knew it I was doing mock exams and the Junior Cert. I had a very strong relationship with my da, you could even say I was a daddy’s girl. He had a big impact on me in my adult life. After he died, every relationship with friends and family became affected. To this day I don’t know how I got through that year 2008 and the ones that followed. Sometimes I feel I was permanently on autopilot looking for some sense of relief. Counselling and CBT therapy played a big part in helping me come to terms with the intense emotions I experienced throughout my teen years because of my panic attacks and the massive loss I endured.
Stay tuned tomorrow for part two of Sarah’s story….
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