Thanatophobia infographic

In 2010, I created a Facebook support group for sufferers of thanatophobia (the fear of death). Managing this account can at times be stressful and difficult, but it is always rewarding - especially when someone tells me how much the group I created helped them.

A lot of questions get asked by newcomers to the group, as they struggle to learn if they are alone in the way they feel. With that in mind, I created a survey for members of the thanatophobia support group to take.

When more than 100 people responded, the only way to extract the complete data set was to pay, but the lovely members of the support group chipped in to raise the money to access the survey responses.

I have interrogated that data and designed this infographic to display, at a glance, some key facts about thanatophobia.

As I work in data analysis, I believe all of these results to be statistically significant, with the caveat that it is true of people who admit their phobia and seek help on the internet / Facebook.

For a high-quality version of this infographic, please follow this link: http://imgur.com/zDjCTjQ

Please note: You must credit SAMawdsley.blogspot.com if you reproduce this infographic.

Miss SAMawdsley xx

What mental illness feels like ...for me

Not everyone knows what it feels like to be mentally ill. And no two mentally ill people feel exactly the same.

But to me? Mental illness feels like...

... looking in the mirror and seeing the worst person in the world - and that's a secret you desperately need to hide from everyone.

... you understand the awful subtext behind everything people say - but then being told you don't. And you don't know whether people are just denying it, or it's really the truth.

... you always need to prove that you are worthy - of your job, of your friends, of your partner, of your family, of... well, existing.

... everyone in the world has your problems too, but they are just dealing with them a lot better than you are.

... you are listening to constructive criticism, but only hearing "you are shit. Like, you are really shit. I'm trying to say this as nicely as I can, so pay attention: You. Are. Shit."

... you just want to rant, and rave, and scream, and cry, and tell somebody all your problems. But then you don't want them to be burdened by your problems, or worse - to think less of you. 

... you're absolutely exhausted from being mentally ill, that even getting out of bed is a massive achievement. But of course you can't celebrate that because everyone gets out of bed every damn day.

... you know people care as such, but they don't want to hear about your petty issues. Not really.

... when you speak, you need to finish speaking as quickly as possible because everyone is just bored of what you're saying and you don't have anything of value to contribute anyway.

... people will only like you if you take medication, because the real you is not good enough.

... everyone thinks you're pretending, or "milking it".

... successes are accidents, circumstantial, easy for everyone to achieve, or not even noteworthy.

... your body is so tired at the end of the day, but your mind needs to go over every detail of the day, the week, the month, the year, every year since you born, before you can finally sleep from sheer exhaustion.

... you try so hard not to get sick, but your body just fails you. But it fails you so often that you're sure that people think you're just faking.

... you don't know if your feelings are real or if you're just "over-reacting because she's mentally ill" or "just sensitive because she has anxiety issues".

... you've told your story so many times that it's just boring to everyone - but you don't have any other story to tell.

... every problem that anybody has is your fault. And if you can't think why it's your fault, then it's because you are so selfish that you didn't even notice you were ruining someone's life.

... people are only your friend because they feel sorry for you.

... you're just waiting for your workplace to figure out you're completely incompetent, so you try really hard to not appear utterly useless.

... you've figured out what people don't like about you, so you try extra hard to not be those things - and instead come off as annoying in a different way.

... every time you're not invited somewhere it's because you are not wanted, or not really a friend. Because if you were - you'd have been asked, right?

... people only invite you to things because they feel sorry for you, or out of social obligation - so you say no so that you don't burden them with your presence.

... you are constantly on the verge of a major catastrophe, and that you need to constantly be prepared for it, but you don't know what it actually is, or when it is actually coming.

... you get that the people you love (and who truly do love you back) don't want you to die. But if you did, while it would hurt initially, eventually they would realise they are in fact better off without you in their life.

... if you don't commit suicide, then you're not that mentally ill.

I searched for an image that represented how I feel, but ultimately it was this image, from the first line of Google image search results for the words "mental illness" that spoke to me the most.

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Please note: This is not a plea for help. Ultimately, I am currently undergoing treatment on the NHS. I am technically classified as disabled, but I work full-time and lead what I like to think is a fun and productive life. This is just putting the figurative pen to paper on what being mentally ill feels like to me.

For clarity, I have been clinically diagnosed with generalised anxiety disorder, obsessive compulsive disorder, depression, complex post traumatic stress disorder, and thanatophobia.

• What does mental illness feel like to you?
• If you've never been mentally ill, can you imagine how it might feel?

Saying goodbye.

"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."
~Annie

I leave for the UK in barely over a week. I will be gone for at least four months. So I have to say goodbye to a number of people. But goodbye seems so final, so inflexible. So one thing I make a point of when bidding farewell to people I know and love is to always say "see you later." If you know me in real life, it might be something you've noticed. And if you haven't, you probably will now.

I do this because I need that person to know I want to see them again. It is more a promise than anything else. Maybe a request or even a demand. And I do this fully expecting to actually see that person again.

I have said 'goodbye' twice, knowing full well it would be the last time I saw that person. They knew it too. One was my 80+ grandfather. The other was a two and a half day old baby. There was tears, heartache and a most surreal type of grief. It is something I wouldn't wish upon anyone, though I know it to be a stark reality of life.

But how do you word your goodbye when there is hope but you still know it may very well be the last time you ever see that person?

"Fare thee well! and if for ever,

Still for ever, fare thee well."
~Lord Byron

Tomorrow, I have to say goodbye to someone I know and have come to love and expect to be in my life. While I hope upon hope that it isn't the case, it is quite possible this person may pass away while I am overseas. I am devastated at the lack of support and hands on care I can offer. Together we fought this situation over the last year and we were told it was beat. And we rejoiced. But now, barely a week before I leave, we have been dealt the harshest of blows and the fight is back on. This time, with one less person to carry the burden.

A kind word and wishes for a speedy recovery mean a lot. Sitting by a hospital bed and being the smiling to face the greet the emergence from an anaesthesia means a lot more. I considered staying but it has been expressly forbade. Saying 'goodbye' is my only option.

But I've thought about it and I think the best thing I can do is to stay true to myself. Tomorrow I will say "see you later".

I request to see you later.

I demand to see you later.

I promise to see you later.

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions

• Have you ever had to say 'goodbye'?

Honestly, I just have thanatophobia & OCD

I am an honest person by nature. I mean that in the sense that I am not deceitful or deceptive. But I also mean I am forthcoming and open.

Sometimes I worry that I am judged negatively for my honesty and that, in the eyes of an extremely negative or jaded person, I could be viewed as attention seeking. I like attention, yes. I am human. But that is not my motivation behind my honesty - especially in regards to my mental health.

People view the mentally ill in a negative fashion. They just do. They're seen as a little bit scary, unstable and weak. Depending on the type of mental illness, this attitude can vary but it's never exactly positive, is it? I don't want to have people feel that way about me. I don't want them to be on eggshells, wondering what is happening inside my head. And aside from that, I don't want to hide. I am not ashamed of my mental illnesses. I didn't choose them and I refuse to be ashamed of something that is outside of my control.

There is another reason for my honesty too. I want to help people. When I told my psychologist about my attitude towards my mental illnesses and that I refused to be ashamed or hide them, he told me he wished he could bottle my attitude and give it to his other patients. I want people to see that it's OK to be honest. It's not OK to be mentally ill in that you don't need to seek treatment or try to get better, but it is OK in that you shouldn't need to hide or pretend. I think this helps with recovery. I know it helps me with mine!

I also know that my thanatophobia is rare. And if it is not rare, it is rarely spoken of. And one is as bad as the other for a sufferer. So I talk. I share my experiences and my thoughts. I tell my story in real time. And I am honest.

And sometimes, something happens that makes me realise I am doing the right thing. Don't get me wrong, I have detractors. I've heard myself referred to as a narcissist, an attention-seeker, a liar and just a good ol' fashioned nut job. Everyone is entitled to an opinion. I am very slowly developing the thick skin needed to carve myself out a corner of the internet for projecting my voice from. And I don't feed the trolls.

Yesterday, an article was written about me in the Sunday Mail. I was interviewed about my job running the 100+ Club and the book that I have written (which you can purchase here) when the conversation turned to my thanatophobia. I believe the journalist had checked out my social media presence. Anyway, she was so fascinated by our brief conversation that the next day she asked if she could do a whole story just on me and my mental health. This would never have happened without my trademark honesty.

Well a flurry of people sought my Facebook page and in turn, joined my little support group, The Safe Space. They told me they thought they were alone - the only sufferer in the world - crazy. But reading my story helped them. Some, profoundly. And none of this, none, would have happened without my honesty! And my favourite comment is this one, from a lady named Narelle: "I was in tears when I was reading the write up in the Sunday paper this morning. When I started to read other people's messages and their own experience I couldn't believe there were other people going through the exact same fears as myself. It was almost a relief knowing I wasn't alone in this."

So judge away, world. Whisper behind my back, call me crazy and call me a narcissist. But I am making a difference in this world. I am helping people and I am damn proud of who I am and what I am achieving. Honestly.

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions

• Do you ever hide who you are?
• Under what circumstances should someone hide their true self?

Thanatophobia - Homophobia - Racism

This part is a bit medically but please read it anyway.

"A phobia (from the Greek: φόβος, Phóbos, meaning "fear" or "morbid fear") is, when used in the context of clinical psychology, a type of anxiety disorder, usually defined as a persistent fear of an object or situation in which the sufferer commits to great lengths in avoiding, typically disproportional to the actual danger posed, often being recognized as irrational. In the event the phobia cannot be avoided entirely the sufferer will endure the situation or object with marked distress and significant interference in social or occupational activities."

I have something called thanatophobia.

Thanatos = Death

Phobia = Fear

Death Fear! Yes, I am terrified beyond all comprehension of dying. I have panic attacks, I take anti-anxiety medication and I have seen a psychologist and a psychiatrist in an attempt to control my phobia. You keeping up with me so far? 

Now, there are people in the world who have something called homophobia.

Homo = Same

Phobia = Fear

Same Fear! This is the fear of homosexuals (LGBTs) - people who are sexually attracted to people of the same sex. These homophobes have panic attacks, take anti-anxety medication and see psychologists and psychiatrists in an attempt to control their phobia.

Oh, wait. No they don't. Because homophobia has never been listed as part of a clinical taxonomy of phobias. Homophobia has never been listed in any Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) or International Statistical Classification of Diseases and Related Health Problems (ICD). Why not? It's not because it's a medical oversight. It's because homophobes don't have a legitimate fear.

Homophobes have a hatred of LGBTs. They harbour contempt for LGBTs. They are prejudiced towards LGBTs. They avoid LGBTs. But it is not a phobia. It's an -ism.

An -ism indicates a belief or principle. You know, like racism.

Racists follow practices that discriminate against members of particular racial groups, for example by perpetuating unequal access to resources between groups.

Doesn't that sound suspiciously like the way 'homophobes' treat members of the LGBT community?

Homphobes believe that LGBTs are lesser people, broken people, evil people - whatever it is they have decided about every LGBT on the planet - but they do not fear them. Not like I fear death. One is an anxiety-based phobia. One is a prejudiced opinion.

Now please be aware this idea was not borne as a reaction from someone who has a legitimate clinical phobia and is trying to 'claim' the word phobia. I use my fear merely as a personal base comparison point. No, this idea comes from the opinion that the word phobia negates some of the responsibility for homophobic attitudes and beliefs.

I don't want to be thanatophobic anymore. I'm trying really hard to not be. Nobody who has a phobia wants to be so irrationally afraid of their particular trigger. But people who are 'homophobic' do have a choice. They can stop discriminating against people who are different in one minor way. They can realise that the minor way in which they do differ from the LGBT community is insignificant. It doesn't matter to them or their life if there is a man somewhere who is perfectly happy being in love with another man.

And if these people refuse to change their bigoted ways, than we should call them what they are. 

Homoist.

And I have freckles so STFU!

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions:

• Do you believe 'homophobia' is an outdated word?
• Do you think changing the word would make any difference?

Just because...

Because I am tired.

Because every day I live is a hellish nightmare full of constant thoughts of death.

Because, believe it or not, sometimes it sucks to have everyone think you're wonderful.

Because if people expected nothing from me, anything I gave would be good enough.

Because I am so terrible at the art of self-soothing.

Because I'm not perfect but it's not for lack of trying.

Because just knowing the words to 'Defying Gravity' doesn't mean I can sing it.

Because I can't turn off my emotions.

Because if I drag my own sunshine out of my life, it is so exhausting trying to light it back up.

Because I enjoy attention, just like most people, but I feel like I am hated for it.

Because I am always there for everybody and I genuinely care.

Because when someone is there for me, I have trouble believing they genuinely care.

Because I am my own worst enemy.

Because my paranoia is exhausting.

Because I wake up screaming in the middle of the night.

Because my own thoughts and emotions contradict themselves.

Because my hands are always cold.

Because there are days when I hate myself.

Because there are days when I despise myself.

Because there are days when I loathe myself.

Because I can try to walk through a door and end up walking into a wall.

Because the touch of someone I love can burn like 1,000 fires.

Because my heart can't decide what it wants and yet it wants whatever that is so badly it hurts.

Because no matter how hard I try, I just can't cook.

Because my anger is intense, irrational and fleeting but by the time it passes, my pride is too stubborn to let it go.

Because people think I'm so good and sweet that I am not allowed to have moments of self-pitying.

Because sometimes I want to cut my own heart out and just hand it over to people who think I don't feel how they hurt it anyway.

Because I think every bit of pain, misery and suffering is my fault and if I can't determine how I caused it, then I blame myself for being so selfish.

Because being bullied has made me so insecure and I end up second guessing myself constantly.

Because I can't take a compliment truly to heart as I am always sure there are ulterior motives.

Because there are times when I feel like a human punchline.

Because I've been lied to and treated like I don't matter.

Because sometimes I can't handle the truth.

Because sometimes I really don't matter.

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions:

• Do you ever have days like these? Have a rant! Share what it is that makes you sad... Real, imaginary, stupid, legitimate... go for it!

Samantha vs Samantha-on-Zoloft

A song for every emotion, right? Well this is how I feel.

Stage whisper: "I am on medication...!" I know, right? Shocking. But seriously, I am not ashamed to admit it. Like someone who is diabetic needs insulin to function better, I too need Zoloft to deal with my OCD & anxiety. But many people are ashamed. And people who should be on medication resist it - for numerous reasons, the biggest, I believe, being the stigma attached and the "crazy person" label that comes with it.

I went on Zoloft in March last year after a bout of suicidal thoughts and behaviours linked to my thanatophobia and my recent (at the time) OCD diagnosis. My head is not a fun place to be. Not by any stretch of the imagination. When my psychologist suggested I go see a psychiatrist, I knew what was coming. What is a psychiatrist if not a psychologist with a prescription pad, right? But even when the psychologist handed me the script, I looked at his outstretched hand with disdain. His hand hovered before he registered that I was not going to make any motion towards accepting his prescription. So he put it on the desk beside me. And when I left, he had to practically wrestle it into my hand. What followed was not pretty and I owe a few people a great debt of gratitude for how they rallied around me. I was not well.

The thing that frightens me now is, I am still not well. I leave for England in 71 sleeps and I decided a while ago I don't want to be on medication on my holiday. So I've been gradually weaning myself off the tablets. And it's been going fine. My withdrawals are beginning to subside and I'm able to go longer and longer between tablets. But I have regressed. I've been feeling it slowly happen over a period of time but I have been trying to deal with it - to ignore my paranoia, to self soothe and to control my anger. But tonight was a major slap in the face for me.

I'm back to being anxious and paranoid. My team lost at football tonight. It's your fault. They aren't happy that they lost. And now they all hate me. Even more than they already did. We let in seven goals. Because you suck and you let your team down. But we did get two goals. Yeah, no thanks to you!

I'm back to being angry and temperamental. I actually had the ref pull me out of the game to have a stern word to me because I was mouthing off. And your team was ashamed to know you! I am not a "mouthing off" kind of girl. But that's the thing, you see. I am. Samantha is a "mouthing off", angry, snarky, acidic, paranoid girl. Samantha-on-Zoloft is not. The paranoia, I could deal with (sort of) because that's all internal. But having no control over my behaviour and finding myself yelling at opponents and the ref is horrible. When a girl blatantly and deliberately fouled me outside of the ref's view, a small voice piped up, "Just hit her! Just punch her square in the jaw!" But I am not a hitting person! I've never hit anybody in my life! But again, I guess Samantha is. It's Samantha-on-Zoloft who is not a hitting person. Samantha tonight had to fight very, very hard not to obey that small voice.

I'm finding it hard to verbalise my feelings right now and explain why I am unhappy about this. You see, I don't have a problem with being on medication. I think my problem lies in the fact that I need it, or I feel I need it, to be a better person. I have heard people say the nicest things about me lately. I'm actually in awe and humbled by how highly people seem to think of me. But now, and it very well could be the paranoia talking, I feel like all these people like Samantha-on-Zoloft, not Samantha. Who I am, in essence, is not good enough. So who am I really? When you need medication as a diabetic, nobody judges you but when your symptoms manifest to the point you feel the need to apologise to your team for your behaviour (and I did) then you feel somehow less than perfect. But I suppose, considering how anxious, paranoid and irrationally angry I am lately, I should give the public what it wants. Or who it wants.

The other danger I find myself in is being so tired. I don't mean like, I need a nap. I mean I am drained of  all emotion, will and drive. It's the same feeling that preceded my suicidal episode last year. And I made a promise to those who helped me that I would do everything they asked me to do to get better... and stay... here... alive. And part of that was admitting when I feel like this. And I guess, this is me admitting that I do. So Samantha - anxious, paranoid and irrationally angry Samantha - should submit to Samantha-on-Zoloft. And you know how there is a song for every emotion and situation? (Or maybe that's just me...) but the song (slightly adjusted) comes to you courtesy of Eminem.

"I've created a monster, 'cause nobody wants to
see {Samantha} no more they want {Samantha-on-Zoloft}
I'm chopped liver.
Well if you want {Samantha-on-Zoloft}, then this is what I'll give ya."

Or at least, I should. Right?

Miss SAMawdsley xx


Questions:

• Are you or have you been on medication for a mental health issue?
• How did it make you feel? What about if/when you came off it?
• What do you think of people who need a tablet a day to function?

Please remember that Samantha wrote this, not Samantha-on-Zoloft.

It's probably irrational, unbalanced and warped but it's not attention-seeking, I promise.

But please be gentle as I have blogged my own truth - and that takes courage, right?

Please don't make me turn comments off.

OCD vs OCPD - there is a difference.

Please note: This is a rant. Or at least, it's as close to a rant as I can manage. I'm told by Macky that I'm not angry or sweary enough to truly rant, but here goes...

Have a look at this link. I'll wait. If you don't click and look, the rest of this blog post won't make sense. So go ahead and click.

19 things that will drive your OCD self insane.

So, did you feel the urge to straighten the pencils? Did you want to twist that one biscuit around so they all faced the same way? Probably. Because you have OCD, right? It's no big deal. Everyone is a little bit OCD, aren't they?

Well actually, no. You're not. You're "a little bit OCD" like I'm "a little bit pregnant". And I'm not pregnant. But I do have OCD.

If it seems like I'm slightly manic about this, it's because I am. This pervasive misconception that preferring things to be alphabetical equals suffering from OCD drives me to desperation because, like I said, I do have OCD, or Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, if you're out of the mental health loop. Both a psychologist and a psychiatrist have diagnosed me with OCD. And it's hard. It's a lot harder than many people would believe.

If you know me IRL, you'll know that I need to have volumes on an even number. I mean, I have to. I nearly killed my whole family leaping from the back seat to the front seat because my brother (who was driving) decided to test out just how badly I wanted the car stereo volume on an even number. In terms of compulsions, I am thankful that I have got off lightly. I do not have the debilitating need to wash my hands over and again or to open and close doors a set number of times. But even still, this aversion to odd numbers is not my OCD. This compulsion is simply the symptom that manifests on the outside and that you can see. No, OCD is much more than this and not many people understand. Some of my closest friends may not even understand.

You are all aware that I have thanatophobia (the fear of death). But having OCD as well means I am thinking about death constantly. I am not exaggerating when I say the only relief I get from thinking about my own mortality and the inevitable deaths of my loved ones is while on a football field. That's 90 minutes in the space of a week (a total of 10,080 minutes) that I don't think about death. And yes, I even think about death in my sleep. It is exhausting. It is so exhausting that last year I decided I couldn't take this life of constant fear and thinking about death anymore. I decided to kill myself. That is OCD. It is persistent, invasive, relentless. It is continuous thoughts that disturb the sufferer and ruins their life. It is not lining your pencils up on your desk.

There is another, little known, disorder called OCPD or Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder and this is more akin to what people believe OCD is like. People with OCPD have "a pervasive pattern of preoccupation with orderliness" whereas people with OCD  have "an anxiety disorder characterized by intrusive thoughts that produce uneasiness, apprehension, fear, or worry". OCPD manifests through "a chronic non-adaptive pattern of extreme perfectionism, preoccupation with neatness and detail" but OCD manifests through "repetitive behaviours aimed at reducing the associated anxiety... of thoughts that recur and persist despite efforts to ignore or confront them".

I am not trying to play "my pain is worse than your pain', I promise. My reason for writing this is because when I (or anyone else who is legitimately diagnosed) admit to having OCD, it is not as trivial as the general public believes it to be. While many people get funny about stereo volumes or like to have their pegs matching when hanging out clothes and they have this in common with some OCD sufferers, I assure you, these people don't understand the half of what living with OCD is like. And somebody saying "I am a little bit OCD about my pegs" is just insulting. You are finicky. You are a perfectionist. You are a control-freak. But you are not OCD. You are not even "a little bit OCD". Please don't presume to know the hell that an OCD sufferer lives in on a daily basis because you like your CD's to be in alphabetical order. It's like telling someone with a brain tumor that you have a little bit of a brain tumor too because you have a headache. Please stop. You are looking foolish.

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions

• Are you willing to admit to being guilty of claiming to be "a little bit OCD"?
• What are some common misconceptions that annoy you?

My tea party funeral

I went to a funeral today. If you've ever read my blog, you'll know I have thanatophobia (fear of death). My aunty expected me not to come but I always feel I should honour the life of someone I knew & loved, even if it makes me terribly uneasy.

On the way to the funeral, I had a chat to Dad about our funerals. The funny thing is we would be the one to organise the other's funeral if we died any time soon. I have ideas about what I would do for Dad & I shared those with him. His idea for his own funeral was a big football game that all attendees have to play! But I was also curious what he would do for me.

He said he would bury me dressed like Alice in Wonderland. That made me so happy! I'd never considered what I would wear, I guess I just thought a pretty dress but with this idea, I imagined, rather than being buried, I would be tumbling down a rabbit hole & this thought made me smile. I actually find this thought comforts me!

Goodbye...

Music wise, he would play 'You'll never walk alone' by Gerry & The Pacemakers. It's the Liverpool anthem, it was sung at my grandfather's funeral & it will be sung at my dad's, my brother's and my funeral too. I don't know what other songs Dad would pick.

Dad told me he would, rather than have a traditional wake, have everyone attend a Mad Hatter's Tea Party. I could just imagine all the people I love best gathered together eating scones & drinking tea from mismatched tea cups - sharing (hopefully fond) memories of me.

I asked Dad if he could invite my Twitter followers. That may sound weird, but when ever I feel alone, I remember I have a stack of people who enjoy my "company" - even if it is on the Internet. And if they felt they would like to attend to say goodbye to me, I would love them to do so.

One thing I did say was I don't know who would speak at my funeral. I am the public speaker in the family & none of my friends are enthusiastic public speakers. I would like to know who would step up & do it. I would love to know who would share stories & what their favourite stories would be. Would they write a script or poem like I would or would they tell stories, off the cuff?

Isn't it funny that the occasion that supposedly represents your entire existence is arranged by people other than you. It will not be my party, it will be the party my loved ones have for me. Firstly I hope it's a long way off & secondly, I hope it is a happy occasion full of people who love me but smile because they knew me!

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions:

• What thoughts or plans do you have for your own funeral?
• Who would plan your funeral & what do you think they would arrange for you?

I reject your reality & substitute my own!

Click here to pledge your support too!
It doesn't cost money, just click & read.

My psychiatrist told me I have Borderline Personality Disorder. I rejected his diagnosis. Because that's how it works, right?

"Mrs Jones, I'm afraid you have cancer."

"No I don't. I am sick of young whippersnappers like you telling me what I do and do not have! Now give me a prescription for Endone and I'll be on my way!"

Is Mrs Jones' cancer like Schrodinger's cat? Unless she looks she neither has, nor does not have, cancer, right? Because that's exactly how I feel about BPD. I neither have, nor do not have, BPD - unless I go back to my psychiatrist. And I haven't. It's been nearly a year. It was March last year.

"Borderline personality disorder (BPD) is a psychological condition marked by a prolonged disturbance of personality function, characterized by depth and variability of moods.

The disorder typically involves unusual levels of instability in mood and black-and-white thinking, or splitting. BPD often manifests itself in idealization and devaluation episodes and chaotic and unstable interpersonal relationships, self-image, identity, and behavior; as well as a disturbance in the individual's sense of self."

To be diagnosed as BPD, a patient needs to present with five out of these nine symptoms.

* frantic efforts to avoid feared abandonment

I will do anything to avoid being abandoned. I have broken up with boyfriends, purely so they couldn't break up with me. When people move away, as people tend to do throughout life, I take it so personally. To me, the fact of the matter is I am not worth enough to them for them to stay near to me. Whatever the reason for the move (work, family, relationships, etc.) it is simply more important to the person than I am. And that hurts so deeply.

* intensity and instability in relationships

* suicidal behaviour, or acts of self-harm

I cut myself throughout high school. I would carve a sparkly spiral on my wrist whenever I was sad. If that was already bloody and scabby, I would carve a star into my ankle. I planned to kill myself in 2005. My dad went to football on Monday nights. On the Sunday, I decided to wait until he went to football and then take every tablet I could find and lay down in bed. If I was still alive when Dad got home, he would just assume I was sleeping & leave me be & I'd be dead by the morning.

Last February I made an attempt. Late one night, I was so overwhelmed by everything that I got up from my bed & headed towards the kitchen of my shared unit for a big sharp knife. As I walked past my housemate's room, I felt a small voice creep up & I squeaked out his name. The sound of my voice, so pitiful, terrified me and I ran back into my room sobbing hysterically. My housemate came running into my room to find me begging him not to let me kill myself. He'd later tell me I had screamed his name & sounded terrified, not pitiful.
These days, I discovered I have physical urticaria. I can stratch myself, feel pain, see an angry red weal & know it will be gone by morning.

* an unstable self-image or sense of self

This is a huge one for me an I have trouble explaining it. I believe I am very different to other people. I don't understand the way other people's brains work and why they do what they do. I'm confused by basic human interactions and am always paranoid that I am doing it wrong. I feel like I wear myself as a costume that fools people but inside this costume is a weird alien who desperately pretends to be normal. It's really hard to describe...

* impulsive behaviour (eg. spending, substance use, reckless driving, sex, binge eating)

* emotional instability due to reactivity of mood

I am shocking with this. The smallest things affect my emotions and they do it in a huge way. A few careless words can send me deep into a spiral of sadness and paranoia. I analyse everything and come to conclusions that are usually painful to deal with and upsetting to me. I hate going to the grocery shops and will come home in a bad mood that I have been known to take out on people I love. Recently, I got insanely angry at my dog for not helping me carry my groceries into the house. Yeah, I know...

* chronic feelings of emptiness

This could be BPD and this could be thanatophobia / existential anxiety. Either way, I absolutely cannot fathom the point of life. I sit and ponder why... just, why...? I am the kind of person who needs goals. I am that donkey that will only walk if there is a carrot dangling right in front of me.

* intense, inappropriate or uncontrollable anger

In grade 10, a guy in manual arts was teasing me. The next thing I remember, my friend touched me on the shoulder. I had opened my tool cabinet, grabbed a chisel & was making my way towards him while the class looked shocked. I describe the part I don't remember as 'red'. It's like my memory was replaced by blindingly bright red. And getting angry at my dog for not bothering to help me carry groceries is not exactly appropriate, is it?

* paranoid thinking under stress or 'dissociative' symptoms

I play football. I'm pretty good. But I won't try to do anything - tricky passes that I am perfectly capable of doing or dribbling the ball up the field, taking on a player - because I am so paranoid the team will hate me if it goes wrong. Even though if they do the same, I'm OK & just yell out encouragement. Some players haven't come back this season. I am convinced it is my fault. I don't know why, I just am. They were there last season when they didn't know I had joined the team, but they won't come back this season.

If someone is upset - or I perceive they may be upset - I believe it's my fault. I usually can't think of a logical reason why it's my fault. And then I believe that it's because I'm so selfish and such a bad person that I didn't even notice what I did to upset them. It's exhausting being so paranoid.

And the dissociative symptoms? I have repressed so much of my life - moments I have been stressed, movie endings that have upset me, confrontational conversations... I just dissociate and somehow come out the other end alive.

It's still something I am considering - whether to accept this diagnosis or not. And in all honesty, this is the main reason I don't want to accept the diagnosis:

"Pejorative terms to describe persons with BPD such as “difficult,” “treatment resistant,” “manipulative,” “demanding” and “attention seeking" are often used."

Imagine a trained professional basically saying to you, "you are mentally ill. How do I know? Because you are difficult, manipulative, demanding and attention-seeking." It hurts. I'll tell you that. Luckily, the few people I have told this to have laughed. They say that if they were to describe me, they would never ever use any of those words. Except "attention-seeking". But they would use it in the "I like to be the centre of attention by being bright, bubbly and entertaining - not by faking drama or making stuff up to get attention. They understand that I am still 'me'. And if 'me' has BPD, so be it. They still love me for who I am, mental illnesses and all.

You may think I am being too open and revealing by writing this blog post. But I am me. If I wrote about the complications of pregnancy, that would be fine. If I wrote about having diabetes, that would be fine. If I wrote about actually being diagnosed with cancer, that would be fine. Obviously they would all be sad, but  in revealing my tragic medical history, I wouldn't be revealing too much. Well I have a mental illness. I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I have thanatophobia / existential anxiety. I may have Borderline Personality Disorder. And if I do, that kind of sucks... but I refuse to be ashamed of it. Like the ad says, "I can treat my mental illness. I can't help how you treat me."

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions:

• Do you have a mental illness that you have kept hidden? Why?
• What is your opinion on being open about having a mental illness?
• Have you pledged to support a change in attitudes to mental illness? PLEDGE NOW

Panic attacks & thanatophobia

Imagine you know for certain that tomorrow you will die. There is not a thing you can do about it, tomorrow will be your last day on earth and tonight will be your last night. How would you feel? I can’t imagine many people, if any, would answer with anything that isn't fear, frustration, anger, confusion or sheer panic. Well I don't know for sure that I will die tomorrow. But what I do know for sure is that there will come a night that will be my last. Following that last night will be my final day on earth. It may not be tomorrow, it may not be the next day. It may not even be for the next 50 years, I don't know. But it will come.

I guess the best way to sum up my thanatophobia is to explain the feeling you would probably be overcome by, knowing you are about to die, is how I feel almost all the time. It is a constant state of fear, of worry, of anxiety. Sometimes the sheer desperation of the situation, the situation that everyone who is born must inevitably face, manifests in what I am forced to call a panic attack.

Panic attacks are defined as "episodes of intense fear or apprehension that are of sudden onset and of relatively brief duration." To clearly define a panic attack, many specialists believe that at least four of the following symptoms should be experienced:

• Clear intense panic
• Palpitations, or accelerated heart rate
• Sweating
• Trembling or shaking
• Muscle tension
• Blurry vision
• Sensations of shortness of breath or smothering
• Feeling of choking
• Feeling waves of being flushed
• Chest pain or discomfort
• Nausea or abdominal distress
• Feeling dizzy, unsteady, lightheaded, or faint
• Derealisation (feelings of unreality) or depersonalization (being detached from oneself)
• Fear of losing control or going insane
• Fear of dying
• Paresthesias (numbness or tingling sensations)
• Chills or hot flashes
• Weakness in the knees
• Confusion
• Tunnel vision
• Blank mind
• Sensing time going by very slowly
• Feeling the need to escape
• Feeling of warmth inside, expanding from within
• Head pressure, unlike headache

In my moments of thanatophobia-induced panic, I have at some point, experienced all of these symptoms and consistently experience 15 of the 25 symptoms. However (and this is very much a point of interest to my psychologist and my psychiatrist) the most glaringly obvious sign of my panic and distress that he hasn't heard of before is my uncontrollable, piercing and blood-curdling screams. I actually reach a state of such frenzy and desperation that I scream, so long and so loudly I often lose my voice for up to four days.

The sound of my screams, usually somewhere between 1am and 4am, would wake my father up with a chilling fright. He has often marvelled that our neighbours have never called the police to report a potential crime. He's explained this as being due to us living on acreage or thanks to the Genovese Syndrome, the bystander effect where witnesses often tend to believe someone else will help. It is because of this that I even found myself in the uncomfortable situation of explaining to my new neighbours, who shared apartment walls with me in my new unit block, that if they were woken by my late night screaming I was simply having a panic attack. I actually had to promise my neighbours that if I was ever in danger I would scream real words such as, "help me, please!" so they would be able to assist me.

I don't remember much about these intense screaming panic attacks. My psychologist is even wary of calling them that, but I have no other word for them. I've been told I scream 'What if I'm wrong?' This alludes to my Buddhist beliefs but obviously, if I am wrong, what is there? Is there nothing? And that is ultimately my base fear. Ceasing to exist. And then I scream.

I do not have these panic attacks in daylight hours – although I have come dangerously close in cinemas. I do however have the traditional panic attacks. I will feel as if everything is closing in on me, the sheer inevitability and overwhelming desperation at my lack of control of death renders me unable to function. I will gasp for breath, my heart will race, I will sweat and I will need to call someone to talk. I often choke down the phone, “talk to me! About anything!” My network of friends and family know not to ask questions and to just start rambling about the first thing that comes to mind – their job, football scores, traffic, the weather, anything to distract my mind. I focus on their voice and their words until I feel it’s safe to open my mouth without a blood-curdling scream escaping.

Miss SAMawdsley xx


PS: For help with Thanatophobia, please join my Facebook support group: Thanatophobia / Fear of death

Questions:

• Have you ever had a panic attack?
• Have you ever perhaps lost control and started screaming?
• What are your thoughts on thanatophobia or anxiety?

How to get published? Just ask!

For the last two years, I've been writing a book for the 100+ Club, a completely unfunded social club exclusively for centenarians. I interviewed members of the club, all of whom are aged 100 or more. I can honestly say that during this time I've enjoyed the acquaintance of some of the most amazing people I have ever met, and will ever meet.

Ivy Bean, 104

Ivy Bean lived in Yorkshire, England. I was lucky enough to be in England last year and I borrowed a car and road tripped with my brother for four hours to meet Ivy and her daughter, Sandra. My brother had never met a centenarian and he was awestruck by Ivy's vitality and sense of humour. As a Manchester United fan, she even teased my Liverpool loving brother! Ivy told us all about her trip to London to meet the British Prime Minister. Amazingly, at 104 it was her first ever visit to London! Sadly, Ivy passed away in mid-July.

Olive Webber, 102

 At 89, Olive decided she was going to fulfil her dream of becoming a singer. And she did. Olive has a wonderful voice and often regales her fellow club members with songs of old at 100+ Club functions. At 99, Olive competed in Senior Idol and at 101, she produced and starred in her own play!

Ruth Frith, 102

As far as inspirational goes, you can't look past Ruth Frith! At 101, Ruth is the oldest competitor at the Master's games. She trains and competes in shot put, hammer throw, javelin and discus. I've lifted her hammer and trust me, it is heavy!!!

Gertrude Volker, 107

At 107, Gertrude was the oldest member interviewed for the book. She told wonderful stories about her childhood and even had a sewing project from primary school to show us.

*      *      *      *      *      *      *

So how am I going to get the stories of these amazing people published? Simple. Just ask!

You can donate (as little as $1) towards getting the 100+ Club book published. Donations from $5 upwards are rewarded with such things as a thank you from the 100+ Club, your name &/or photo published in the book, a signed copy of the book and even lunch with a centenarian and me! Please give what you can! I know centenarians aren't as cute and fluffy as babies or puppies but they're simple (yet amazing!) people who deserve to have their story told and to see their name in print! "Every little helps!"

Click here to donate or for more information!

(Alternatively, please become a fan of the 100+ Club on Facebook!)

Sister Brenda Browne, 104

Edna Frank, 102

Marjorie Bostock, 102

Phyllis Thomas, 101

Sally Davis, 103

Thelma Kennedy, 103

Miss SAMawdsley xx

When are you "faced with death"?

My last post on death for a while, I promise! xx

*      *      *      *      *      *      *

Someone I've known for a long time and who is very close to me has been told he may die soon. At worst, he may not live to see Christmas.

He is facing death.

I run the 100+ Club. Every member of this club is aged 100 or more. Considering the average life expectancy in Australia is 81.5 years, it's fair to say these people are living on borrowed time and that inevitably, and somewhat soon, they will die.

They are facing death.

Consider someone who has been diagnosed with cancer and has been told they have 18 months to live.

They are facing death.

A 25 year old with cystic fibrosis has, on average, another 10 years to live.

They are facing death too, right?

Would you feel a pang of sympathy for all these people and their bravery in knowing death is imminent? I do.

Would you be at all surprised if the people who live these realities (and they are real) were afraid? If they questioned their purpose, their death and what was beyond that? I wouldn't.

Now I have, at best, 80 years to live. Am I facing death? At what point on the winding down clock do we feel we are "facing death"? How much sand needs to be left in the hourglass to keep us comforted, unfazed by our mortality and confident in our existence?

"Like sand through the hourglass, these are the days of our lives..." (think about it)

For help & support with thanatophobia, or to chat with like-minded individuals, please click here --> CLICK ME!

Miss SAMawdsley xx

He's coming for you, you know?

Yesterday I asked, are you afraid of dying? Interestingly, the response was less enthusiastic. Here are the responses I got.

Samantha: Love the blog hun! I have never been afraid of dying until recently. I'm a Christian and believe that I'll be going on to paradise. I don't know what it'll be like but i know it will be fab! I think it was a Jewish man that once said 'We have as much concept of the afterlife as an unborn baby does of the outside world' but that doesn't bother me. I don't fancy the idea of drowning but the actual moment of death i imagine to be very peaceful. HOWEVER... since having my baby boy I'm terrified of leaving him. I'm also scared that something could happen to me while my husband is at work and my baby would be screaming until he got home! It's amazing how having a child changes your outlook on life! X

Lee: I'm not afraid of dying, or death, but I do worry about those I would leave behind if I did pass on.

WWKnight: Im afraid of living an insignificant life, and thus I am afraid of dying without having achieved anything. But I am not actually afraid of the dying itself.

Karen: No I am only afraid of the way I will die as long as it is painless and with dignity I have seen so many deaths in my life and know how horrible death can be so I am hoping i go quickly and in my sleep. I also would rather die than live with dementia or alzheimers disease. 

@paolavanessa: I'm not afraid of dying. I'm afraid of dying too soon.

Anonymous: As terrified as I am of public speaking, I would choose that over the coffin only because the thought of my kids without me breaks my heart.

The following conversation also took place on my blog...

Anonymous: Death doesn't worry me - why spend your life worrying about death. I don't believe in after life's, heaven and pet cementaries so there isn't motivation to end up in the fluffy clouds or worry about burning my toast in hell. Death isn't something I contemplate or consider the ramifications of. Those who fear death - in what way does this fear impact on your living? 

Samantha: I am afraid of death. Well, I am afraid of ceasing to exist. The impacts for me are huge. I have suffered panic attacks since I was 11 and have been in and out of therapy since then. Nothing has helped. Most recently, I was in hospital with a burn and while on pain killers, lost complete control and started screaming, I mean really hysterically screaming because I thought about the fact I am going to die. So it definitely impacts on my living. 

Anonymous: yeah, death itself doesnt phase me, I wont know about it when I'm gone. Losing someone else close (children, husband etc, not parents cos I see that as the natural order of things)and experiencing that pain again is enough to put me into a state of manic terror.

Samantha: "I won't know about it when  'I'm gone". It is exactly that thought that terrifies to the point that I can't breathe... Literally being unable to think, feel, love... oh God... :( 

I also posted a poll on Facebook asking if respondents were afraid of dying. My boyfriend & another friend responded. That is it. And they both said no. So what am I to gather from this response? I may just be inferring but from what I am lead to believe, most great scientific discoveries started out as mere hypotheses. I wonder if maybe people are more willing to talk about other fears. Other fears like heights, spiders, snakes and insects can be avoided. Theoretically, you could survive the rest of your life without ever climbing a ladder again. If you were lucky enough, maybe, just maybe, you would never have to come across another spider ever again. But death? I could live for another week and die or I could live for another 80 years and die. But whatever happens and however long it takes, I am going to die. You are going to die. Every single person you have ever known, or will ever know, is going to die.

He's coming for you, you know?

I know this is a morbid topic and people don't like to think about it. It is my belief that people without thanatophobia / fear of death are not void of a fear of dying. I believe they simply don't think about it.

Tell me I'm wrong.

Miss SAMawdsley xx