With sudden ferocity it’s on you – your intellect can’t help you now.
You struggle to maintain perspective, but while drowning you can’t figure how.
It hits you with force, a hundred foot wave, delivering a great crushing blow
Sucking your breath, breaking your thoughts, a rushing adrenaline flow.

Once hit you are shaken, your muscles weak, the trembling spreads like a vine
Wrapped in its tendrils, kidnapping your will, distorting and disrupting time.
It takes hold of your throat, in a strangling grip, till you find you barely can swallow.
Your heart tries escaping, right out from your chest, your lungs feel like they might follow.

You wonder if everyone’s looking, thinking “What’s wrong with them, are they ill?”
You hope you just might, with tremendous effort, find a way to appear at least still.
And during this hell, which can drag on all day, or all week if you’re in quite a state
Nobody around you has the slightest damn clue what an effort it takes to seem straight.

With each passing moment, you wonder if now you’ll just vomit all over your shoes
But somehow you stay upright, even though you’re on fire, you rely on your will to get through.
It’s not that uncommon, in the midst of this angst, to be dripping with sweat from your brow
And your mind will do thought-loops, thrashing over itself, you’ll wish it would just settle down.

If you’ve not felt anxiety, hear it from me, this is not something upon you I’d wish.
I could never imagine, before I first had one, how horrific a panic attack is.
So if someone you know has told you before, this is something they deal with in life
Don’t think them weak, for their strength is enormous, as it need be to deal with this strife.

Related Posts:

• I’m no Superman… (codenix | blog)
• When your mind defects… (codenix | blog)
• On Public Displays of Vulnerability (codenix | blog)
• Value (codenix | blog)

But then I seemed to lose my way. I still had sight of my broad destinations, and ports I wanted to visit along the way, but I seemed to lose my confidence and my will. Each new day no longer held the promise of the wonder of adventure, but rather the monotony of maintaining the ship. I stopped looking to the horizon.

I made a decision last year, after I had faced my first panic-attack monster, that I would share this journey publicly in the hope that someone else may in some way benefit from my experience. I already know some people who have, as they’ve recognised in themselves the tell-tale signs of pending storms in their own lives which they’ve decided to actively navigate around rather than just hope them away. I’m happy with that – it feels like there’s a purpose.

The down side is that in the midst of any storm one can become intensely absorbed in the process of surviving. This tends to cut communications with your loved-ones, and leave you all feeling isolated and afraid. It can also make you send up distress flares in panic, as you feel you’re surely about to capsize and drown, and these affect those around you who care.

I’m working hard on myself to reclaim what I had. I’m fully aware of the wonderful things I have in my life – my beautiful, incredible children, my amazing wife, a family who’d literally lay down their lives for me, and friends who’ve come to mean the world to me. I know there’s so much to be thankful for, and these things make the battle worth fighting.

This afternoon I have my first appointment with a psychologist. It’s both exciting and scary, and I’m trying to keep my anxiety under control. I don’t want to build up too many expectations, as I know it’s likely to be a long process – learning to be me again. In the meantime, if you’ve reached out to me, if you’ve offered a quiet word of encouragement or taken or more active role – I want to you to know, you have made an enormous difference, more than you’re likely to ever know. Thank you. xo

Related Posts:

• I’m no Superman… (codenix | blog)
• When your mind defects… (codenix | blog)
• Value (codenix | blog)
• Anxiety in verse (codenix | blog)

There are people – good people – who care, who understand, but they have their lives. I’m not valuable to them, beyond my role as a fellow human and to some, a friend. I worry about overstepping and scaring them away. I don’t want to be a burden, or more trouble than my role as a friend is worth. I don’t want to be toxic. So I’m careful what I say. I hold much back, because their value to me is enormous. They are my tethers to the world I know. They keep me from the other world I’ve only glimpsed, the world which scares me.

There’s this rolling pit of snakes where my stomach should be. I’m alone in a battle nobody can see. I’m back where I was at sixteen, when I wanted nothing more than to be valued by someone. To have a connection.

Everything I do is empty and pointless. It’s just surviving. Paying the bills. Marking time. I have no impact on anyone. Nobody is better off because of me. No victories are celebrated, not even by me. There isn’t time. And I can’t get excited anymore anyway.

Related Posts:

• On public displays of vulnerability (codenix | blog)
• I’m no Superman… (codenix | blog)
• When your mind defects… (codenix | blog)
• Anxiety in verse (codenix | blog)

There are times it withdraws, granting short-lived reprieve.
You forget what it’s like, and can start to believe
that perhaps you’re all better, that you’re back in control
but it soon reappears, and drags you back down that hole.

To all of your colleagues, and your family and friends
Your complaints seem excessive, sending them round the bend.
And although they might see it, they don’t recognize
what the cause of that look is, which they see in your eyes.

There are some people near you, who you probably know
Who go through their days trying hard not to show
The thing that consumes them, drains the blood from their face.
And believe me they would never want you in their place.

Chronic pain’s their companion, and it mightn’t mean much
if you’ve not personally experienced it’s terrible touch.
But hear what I tell you, because there’s so much at stake
next time they’re distracted, perhaps you’ll give them a break.
 

Our courtship was greatly extended, spanning months of playful exchange
And each time we met for a weekend, we’d make most of the time that remained.
I felt pretty much as I do now, that I’m the luckiest man in the world
Because somehow I ended up with an incredible, beautiful girl.

Today has special significance, because Valentines’ is when we first kissed
It’s a memory that still gives me tingles, thinking back on that evening of bliss.
I remember those pulse-racing feelings, as my heart tried to escape from my chest
These are feelings which haven’t diminished, after eighteen years they’re still fresh.

Who would have dreamed we’d be here now, with three gorgeous kids and a home?
Well probably me now I think back, which I suspect you have guessed from my tone.
I want you to know that I love you, with every last peice of my soul
And Lu-Ann I will love you forever, until long after we’re both grey and old.

The sinking feeling one experiences in their chest when a much-relied upon device stops working is an emotional event. When one is then informed by the device manufacturer’s support hotline that although the only failed item is the device’s AC charger, the entire device must be sent interstate in order to access a warranty replacement for the charger, the sinking feeling is quickly replaced with red-eyed rage.

One’s rage is amplified when told that the process will take a minimum of 7 business days, and of course any data on the device will be very likely wiped in step-one of their diagnosis. The service representative at one point even told me to perform a factory reset on the device right then and there, which not only wouldn’t have helped, but would have deleted all my data which he’d not thought relevant enough to tell me. Thankfully I’m not your average user, so I pointed this out, but the rep didn’t acknowledge my point that they should really tell customers they’re about to lose all their data before saying “hold down the power and volume buttons”.

Were this an Apple device, I’d have walked into one of the several Apple Stores within twenty-five minutes’ drive from my location, presented my device for an on-the-spot diagnosis, and been handed a new charger right then. I’ve had this experience with an iPhone. Accustomed to HTC service, I expected my device to be taken from me and sent to some distant workshop, returned to me after several weeks either inadequately repaired, or replaced with a reconditioned device which hadn’t been as well looked after as my own. To my surprise, the Apple Genius replaced my screen right there and then, and two years later my son now uses that same device which is going strong.

Unfortunately the Transformer isn’t an Apple device, and either through inexplicably poor go-to-market planning, or simple contempt towards their user-base, ASUS have made replacement AC chargers as unavailable to Australians as Apollo Moon-rocks.

Since purchasing my cherrished Transformer, I knew charging would eventually become a problem. As Apple understands very well, information device purchases are soon followed up with various accessory purchases as users consider the various usage scenarios they’re likely to encounter. With the Transformer, due to its requirement for a minimum of 11V delivered via the propriatory charger, in-car charging lacks an easily purchased solution. User forums such as XDA-Developers (the font of knowledge for all things PDA Phone-related since HTC’s first PPC device rocked the world), abound with threads discussing user-built or modified charging adaptors, in response to astonished pleas by new Transformer owners for a charging solution.

These pleas are extended by a seemingly growing number of users who, like me, have discovered one day out of the blue that the very small charging brick, prone to over-heating, has ceased to function. Most users would then have no choice but to return the entire device to the ASUS service centre (in Australia, only their Sydney office can apparently work with the Transformer), and revert to pens and paper for their business meetings until their device is returned.

In my case, thankfully, I was a already aware of the Transformer’s charging requirements due to XDA-Developers threads, so I knew that a $30 universal charger with a USB interface from Jaycar would also do the trick. I’m now writing this post on my Transformer, freshly charged no thanks to ASUS Australia, who’d have had me twiddling my thumbs while they wasted everyone’s time wiping my data before bothering to simply plug in another charger to see if the simplest and most likely point of failure was to blame.

Jaycar universal charger suitable as replacement

We become emotionally invested in these devices which we buy to make life easier. Many clients and co-workers have ooh’d and aah’d at my Transformer which allows me to bang out detailed meeting minutes on the excellent keyboard (sent directly to participants before I leave the room), show off broduct brochures and even present Powerpoint slides on the fly.

As someone who’s often asked (professionally and personally), which devices I’d recommend for various things, these are items which I consider in my answer. A killer product isn’t enough – you need to back it with customer-focussed service and a decent product distribution model so your product owners don’t have to feel that sinking feeling when they realise they are going to have to send their device away somewhere. That’s exactly why after owning five HTC pocket-pc devices, I eventually migrated to iPhone (despite the loss of some much-loved flexibility). Sending their devices to Queensland for service (as was necessary then), simply isn’t compatible with business use, and wasn’t worth the emotional turmoil.

I hope ASUS eventually realise customer service is the second half of a killer-product equation.

Related Post

• Are Android keyboard-enabled tablets ready for business use? (codenix | blog)

Related articles

• The Swift Rise And Sad Fall Of The Asus Transformer Prime Android Tablet (techcrunch.com)
• Finding your Asus Transformer Charger suddenly doesn’t work – what to try first! (transformerforums.com)

A single word contrasted by an azure canvass can extend the hand of brotherhood to a fellow countryman, conveying the hurt and shame felt for a previous generation’s wrongs.

Written by a devious man to serve selfish ends, words can undo a century’s work to rid the world of horrific infectious childhood disease.

Fashioned in law, words can deny dignity in life to those who seek to love who they please, and in death to those who’d rather let go in ill-health.

From the pulpit, a preacher’s words can drive youths to suicide, or a congregation to violent acts.

Words can paralyse a generation as they watch our climate slip toward breaking point through fear of personal cost.

Words can wound. Words can heal. Words can build bridges, and words can kill.

Words are the greatest tool humankind has to shape the world, for they allow the formation and communication of thoughts and ideas, of plans and designs, of love, pain and art through the ages, surviving far beyond the mind which set them free.

Words are a lifeline. Words connect us with each-other, building relationships and strengthening bonds. Words are a suitor’s best friend, and a lover’s gentlest toy. On receiving a letter of love, words can fill us with secret joy.

Words are a conspiracy’s surgical instrument, turning the loyal with conjured doubt. Words build us up, but equally break our heart.

Words are powerful yet plentiful – valuable yet free. It costs nothing to say “you’re appreciated”, yet so few invest the price.

Words can feed the soul, or destroy it. They can build a child’s confidence, or decimate a man’s self-worth. Words can strengthen a woman’s resolve, or crush a team’s moral.

Left unsaid, words can stall a friendship, which could have been great.

I like my words to uplift – to console and to cheer. My words sometimes challenge, but my intent is sincere. I’d rather my words make you laugh, or feel good about some aspect of you, than cause sadness or pain, which I couldn’t bare to do.

My words are a gift, freely given to you.

We all have words. What will you do with yours?

Genetics have been generally kind to me. I have no major physical or health defects, my appearance doesn’t usually repulse (despite my lifestyle choices which have led to being overweight, but I’m dealing with that), and I’m generally average at most things, which is a bigger gift than many realise. My greatest genetic inheritance however is my mind. It’s the tool which has allowed me to become fairly successful in my area of expertise, and to generally negotiate a path through my life’s experiences with mostly favourable outcomes.

Image by JD'na via Flickr

My brain’s genetic plan and the subsequent synapse-building experiences of my early years have particulary favoured communication skills and empathy, which I view as intrinsically linked, and the ability to bring to bear a sharp, intense focus: a mix which has been perhaps my greatest strength throughout life. As a consultant, my communication skills and empathy result in rapid rapport and understanding of my client’s pains, motivations and expectations, and my focus allows me to absorb, collate and analyse these inputs very quickly. I can generally turn out resultant work pieces must faster than many of my contemporaries, subsequently allowing me to churn out a high volume of quality work.

Recently however, my ever reliable, identity-defining toolkit has faltered. My mind and body colluded to crush my confidence, destroy my focus and undermine everything which makes me… me. The anxiety attacks I wrote of recently were just the beginning (or at least the first signs obvious to me), of what I now believe will be a long journey of self-discovery, emotional upheaval, and change.

I never understood depression. I sympathised with its victims, no doubt, but I didn’t understand what it really meant. I thought it a cognitive process – a ‘state of mind’ thing, which suffers needed to conquer through determination, counseling and support. I had no idea. I had no concept of how rapidly one’s mind can defect – how quickly your greatest gift can desert you and turn you into a direction-less, hollowed-out zombie, wading through a cesspool of overpowering emotions, pointless thought-loops, and self-doubt.

It wasn’t until I spoke with my GP that some pieces of my puzzle finally fell into place – pieces which the ‘normal’ me would have identified, catalogued, analysed and linked together rapidly. For several years I’ve felt unfulfilled at work, thinking what I do delivers no benefit to mankind and is therefore pointless. For most of this year I’ve generally avoided social situations – usually appealing to me, as I thrive on exchanging ideas and learning new things from other people’s experiences. I’ve avoided emotional entanglements – effectively shutting out emotional stimuli. I’ve been numb. More recently I’ve awoken most mornings before dawn, almost overwhelmed by a deep sorrow, seemingly disconnected with events, easing as the day progresses. Criticisms which I’d normally take on board or reject, depending upon the source and the relevance, have devastated me. I’ve avoided reading, for absorbing information has become very difficult, when usually I read constantly. I’ve cried – sobbed – usually in my car, at the slightest provocation. Songs will do it. Lyrics I’ve heard thousands of times suddenly mean something deep and profound. Reading or hearing about suffering does it too, or the thought that I may have hurt someone I care about.

I’ve never suffered from anxiety. My recent panic attacks were the first I’ve had. Although I’m just beginning the process of working through this, my GP said many things I’ve said are indicative of depression, not anxiety, which suffers tend to battle much of their adult lives. We’re doing some blood tests to eliminate some various things, and we’ll start the process on counseling and so-forth, so we’ll see.

Despite my sympathy for sufferers of depression, the thought that maybe I may yet be described as such is rather horrifying. I know there should be no shame, not guilt, but it’s there. It feels so self-indulgent, so selfish. Yet I wouldn’t think the same of anyone else in this position. It’s chemical. I’m still in here somewhere – I’m just going to need a little help finding myself again.

Anti-neo-plaston Therapy it’s called
And many a good scientist will call it a fraud.
A treatment derived from the patient’s own wee
Backed by mountains of evidence that no one can see.

He charges a fortune to bestow upon you
This treatment regardless of whether it’s true.
Foundations have risen, to help out the brave
Who seek out his magic to keep from the grave.

But many who call into question his method
Asking for proof of his claims that he’s gifted
Have been browbeaten, bullied and threatened
By a man named Marc Stephens, who seems like a cretin.

This clown he has written to many a blogger
Demanding retraction, or shortly he’ll clobber
Them with a writ, or a suit, or subpoena
Or something-or-other, it could be made clearer.

Although he suggests he’s an attorney-at-law
His letters suggest he’s just a big bore.
And now he’s unleashed the Internet’s pet
A phenomenon we know as the ‘Streisand Effect’.

Now bloggers and journos the world over unite
A spotlight made up of just pin-points of light
Will shine upon quackery’s bullying ways
To undo the damage of this silly woo craze.

Let’s band together again to defend
The brave, conscientious Rhys Morgan and then
Our Ratbags, and Orac, Andy Lewis and others.
Let’s teach these quack-docs not to mess with our brothers.

Some background posts you should read:

• Rhys Morgan – Threats from The Burzynski Clinic
• The Quackometer - The Burzynski Clinic Threatens 17 Year Old Blogger
• The Quackometer – The Burzynski Clinic Threatens My Family
• Science Blogs – Marc Stephens issues more threats on behalf of the Burzynski Clinic
• Neurologica Blog – The Burzynski Clinic – Another Crank Tries to Intimidate a Blogger
• Bad Astronomy Blog – “Alternative” cancer clinic threatens to sue high school blogger
• The Quackometer – The False Hope of the Burzynski Clinic
• Quackwatch – Stanislaw Burzynski and “Antineoplastons”

Related articles

• Is the Burzynski Clinic Full of Quacks? (sandwalk.blogspot.com)
• Meet Stanislaw Burzynski (theawl.com)
• Burzynski Clinic: the domain of scoundrels and quacks (freethoughtblogs.com)
• Representative from Burzynski Clinic sends aggressive legal threats to skeptics who question “antineoplaston” cancer therapy (boingboing.net)
• Evidence? Burzynski don’t need no stinkin’ evidence (cubiksrube.wordpress.com)

It’s difficult because of the hurt, guilt and shame I still feel despite my rational mind knowing these feelings are unwarranted and unhelpful.

It’s difficult because of the stigma attached to mental health issues; the automatic distance people put between themselves and someone they view as ‘unstable’; the sub-conscious caution with which somebody ‘prone to stress’ is handled, perhaps sidelined when “this deal’s really important – we’d better not use him. He might crack up.”

I’m generally perceived as the go-to guy. I’m the one the sales people would prefer to have on their team in any bid, the one they’d like to wheel out to present to customers on our various business solutions, because I know my stuff and I communicate well. Terms associated with me are ‘dependable’, ‘rock-solid’, ‘gets it done’, and ‘secret weapon’. I know this about myself, and I take pride in it. It’s a result of many years’ of putting others first, operating beyond the definition of my job role, and doing what needs to be done to win the deal, implement the solution, and keep everyone happy.

You may view this as arrogance, but this self-view is an essential part of my core self – self-belief, which feeds my willingness to take on new challenges even without knowing what I’m getting into, because I can always handle it.

Well it turns out, not so much…

Last week I was involved in a presentation skills course, which initially I was slightly annoyed (okay, really annoyed), about attending because I’ve had extensive training and experience in presenting, dating back to my Army days when during Officer training at Duntroon I received what I can only describe as first-class instruction on such things. Regardless it was mandatory, so I went along, thinking perhaps I might sneakily get some ‘real work’ done whilst being a wall-flower during the course.

Despite the obvious problem with the whole ‘wall-flower’ plan, for this is not a term with which I’m usually associated, I was quite rapidly drawn in to this course which was quite superb, and showed me that presenting to persuade is very different to presenting to instruct, which is what I learned at the Royal Military College.

During this course we did many ‘last minute’ presentations on inane (but often hilarious), topics, drawn randomly from ‘product’ and ‘audience’ suggestions written on cards by each of us, using the structure and approach we’d learnt to move our fictional audience to the next stage of the decision-making process. Two of my favourite combinations were ‘Automobiles to blind people’, and ‘Sex toys to Mormons’.

The final afternoon of this two-day course required us to re-present the first presentation we’d done right at the beginning of the course. I applied all the techniques we’d been shown, and felt I was ready to deliver a knock-out performance. Then I had a technical problem which prevented me from displaying my speaker notes on my screen, leaving me with very few, very sparse slides and throwing me completely.

Normally I’d not have struggled much. I’d have made some joke to show the audience I wasn’t bothered, and just ad-libbed my way through. This time I experienced a sudden rush of anxiety, my mind turned to fog, and I stammered my way through the next five minutes of hell, wanting to ‘vomit on my shoes’ (a term I’ve picked up from a wonderful person I’ll speak of shortly), until I sat down feeling crimson and humiliated.

I was furious with myself. I knew I was better than this, and I didn’t understand why I was so emotional. I’m usually great under pressure, focused in a crisis. I whinged about it for a while to my wife and a close friend, and moved on with life.

Or so I thought. Until yesterday. After a brief chat with my manager about my workload, which had breached ‘ridiculous’ to become ‘absurd’, mostly due to my own inability to say ‘no’, and desire to show my new team that in my new role I’ll be even MORE effective at helping them qualify, design and sell the solution, we set off in separate cars to a partnering meeting with a senior manager from another organisation.

Then I cracked. One moment I was driving along, thinking about the people I had to get back to, the proposals I had to write, the research I had to do, the templates I had to make; then I couldn’t breathe. My heart felt as though it wanted to explode out of my chest, I felt like vomiting, my ears began to ring and I gripped the steering wheel hard enough to leave impressions.

What the hell was happening? My rational mind was saying “Dude! Settle down! What have you got to be so upset about? You live in perhaps the best place and time in history, you have a beautiful family whom you can support. You have no right to feel like this!”

I turned my thoughts, whilst concentrating on breathing slow and deep, to my wife – and immediately started to cry. What the hell? I thought of my kids – more tears. Shit. SHIT. Thoughts of my family carried with them emotions which decimated my control. I was starting to panic. I thought of my friend, with whom I had discussed my presentation failure, and that calmed me a little. Okay, I’m okay, I just need to calm down. My mind flicked back to my family – and I started to hyperventilate. I felt as though I had a lump of cheese stuck in my throat. My heart continued to pound, and I could hear it in my head. My feet felt like they were burning. I started to sweat. This was not normal. I realised there was something seriously wrong.

I reached our destination, and my boss parked ahead of me. I was struggling to get myself under control, to be professional, to not be weak. He was walking towards me. I was trembling. My hands were visibly shaking, and I wasn’t sure I could talk because of that cheese stuck in my throat. I said “Man, I think there’s more to this than just my workload,” and my face contorted as I tried not to cry. I was walking into a meeting with senior management from a company we hoped to partner with, and I was about to become a blubbering mess.

My boss looked at me with concern, and his face changed. The look wasn’t horror – it was recognition. He said “Man, you’ll be okay. I’ve been there. Just relax.”

I pulled it together for the meeting – barely. Focussed on the task at hand I was okay, but on the way back to the car my mind flicked back to my to-do list and the breathing thing started again. I took a phone call from a colleague, and it wasn’t work related. It was about camping and my recommendations about camper trailers. This actually calmed me down significantly. My boss went on his way, and I headed to my next appointment – another one with a C-level manager whom I’d not met previously.

I arrived early. I sat in the car for forty minutes, wondering if I’d make it through the next meeting. I took another call, from a good friend who happens to represent one of our vendors, and I quickly fell apart. He saved me. He told me his story of struggling with a workload he willingly took on believing he could do it all, help everyone even when they wouldn’t help themselves. It landed him in hospital. He’d made changes. He suggested I’d better seriously consider doing the same, because this story doesn’t have a happy ending if you don’t.

I got through the next meeting. I survived, and nobody knew. But I was bearly hanging on. My heart was still racing, and I was in constant fight-or-flight mode, with adrenaline pumping through my body and unresolved tension. We’ve evolved this response as a defence mechanism, with helpful physiological effects such as evacuating our bowels and bladder so we can run away from predators faster, pumping additional blood to our arms and legs to assist in the physical exertion of fighting for our lives, or running away, focusing our attention and slowing our perception of time. These are very useful when your problem is a predator or enemy. They’re of no use whatsoever in modern society and your problem is workload. Unless you’re a lion tamer or bear handler, in which case maybe.

I had been speaking with another friend via Twitter throughout the week about other things, and she had coined the term ‘vomit on your shoes’ in describing how she’d felt during a failed presentation once. She DM’d me to ask if I was okay because she was worried about something I’d tweeted the day before, which evidentially she saw as a warning sign of stress. I didn’t want to burden her. I didn’t want her to think I was weak, unworthy, or a drama-queen. Regardless the dam broke, and she patiently listened, talked it through with me, and helped me understand that the feelings of guilt, shame and fear I was experiencing are understandable but undeserved, and that this can happen to anyone. None of us are immune, and those of us who take pride in our talents for enriching other people’s lives are perhaps even MORE in danger, because we find it so difficult to say “No,” when asked “I know you’re busy, but could you….?”

Without her help I don’t think I would have gone home. I don’t know what I would have done, but I felt so ashamed of my self-involvement, so unworthy of feeling stress when I’m so privileged compared to the rest of humanity, that I could barely function. I wanted to vomit on my shoes.

To my two friends who helped me, I could never adequately express my gratitude to you. I feel immensely lucky to have friends like you, who listened and advised and helped me understand I’m not a failure, this is more common than I would have thought, and we all need help sometimes. I will never forget what you did for me.

So too the other friends who responded to my comments on Twitter and Facebook – people who also recognised the warning signs and told me that I was not alone, they were there if I needed to talk, and they’ve been through it too – I thank you. Normalising this experience and helping me understand that so many of you have experienced the crushing effects of anxiety and severe stress, and that I should not try to deal with it alone, helped me enormously. It has been a humbling, amazing experience, reaffirming my faith in people and the importance of friends.

As for me, well I don’t have the answers yet. I know at least that I have a problem and I don’t have the necessary skills to deal with it myself. I have started the process of seeking assistance from a psychologist to help me find some coping mechanisms and learn how to recognise the warning signs of stress and anxiety. Stigma be damned – I can admit I need help, and a psychologist has the training to provide it.

I’ve spoken with my boss about it, and he has been supportive and understanding. He pointed out that the world will not end if I say “No.” He will work with me on redistributing some of my workload, especially the items which aren’t my job anyway. I know I’m in no danger professionally with him, as he’s without a doubt the most understanding and supporting manager I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. He’s a friend too, and I value that highly.

If you’ve never had an anxiety attack, never felt like you were about to drown in sudden, unexpected emotional turmoil, please take this as a warning. I’m no Superman, and neither are you. Reach out to friends, family – even colleagues – whoever you have. Don’t try to struggle with this alone, because from the stories I’ve heard that leads down a road from which you can’t necessarily return.

Seek professional help. There’s no shame in it. Life doesn’t teach you all the skills you need to get by, and you wouldn’t give a second thought to seeking the assistance of a mechanic if your car broke, or a dentist if it were your tooth.

And if you’re an employer or manager, please consider this: Business planning considers the maintenance needs of production machines, IT systems and even building facilities, with planned, funded maintenance activities to keep them operating at efficiency, but assumes people will take care of their own maintenance with holidays or whatever. In many cases the sad reality is that workers either do not have the spare funds to take a real break, or put off leave until “things aren’t so busy”. Your people are the glue which holds your organisation together. They are your only appreciating asset, as your equipment rapidly depreciates and loses value from the moment of purchase, and your property value is of little operational benefit. Your people grow in value, and your business will benefit from a maintenance plan to keep them operating effectively.

The song “Superman” by Lazlo Bane really captures my feelings about this. Lyrics are included.

Have a listen, and feel free to comment about your anxiety or break-down experience to show others they aren’t alone, they haven’t failed, and they can get through it.

Follow-up post -> When your mind defects