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?

Where I belong...

I was bullied in high school. I was a social outcast. It hurt, it destroyed my confidence and in a way, it crushed my spirit. While I know the initial bullying was for something stupid and outside of my control (my family & I did a milk run... I know, right?), my overly-enthusiastic, somewhat offbeat & eternally optimistic personality seemed to bait my bullies into damaging my self-esteem as much as possible. Even teachers recognised I was a little bit odd. In the last English lesson of high school, my teacher gave out a literary quote, hand picked for each student to reflect her feelings for us as individuals. Mine?

"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away." 

---Henry David Thoreau---

And that's what I have always done. I'm still overly-enthusiastic. I'm still somewhat offbeat. And I'm still eternally optimistic. But I'm also still very insecure that all these qualities I possess combine to make one really irritating human being who "deserves" all the bullying she got.

Until I joined a football team in 2011.

My cousin suggested I join & promised me that all the girls were a great & it was a very supportive team. I trusted her & honestly, it was the best decision I ever made. I was terrified going to the first training session. Dad, who just plain loves football, came with me. I was convinced that everyone would hate me, that I would just be "the new girl" and that I would not fit in.

I could not have been more wrong. Dad was straight away asked to be the assistant coach and the girls welcomed me as one of them. Not a single one treated me like I was anything but a friend and much appreciated teammate - and I mean for my personality, not for my (questionable) football prowess.

I was going through one of the worst periods of my life when I joined the team. I was actually suicidal and being part of a team that felt like they needed me helped save my life. I couldn't let them down when, by signing up to the team, I had made a promise. And I keep promises. Some of the girls knew about my troubles. They happily let me be number 7 to appease my OCD and it has been "my number" ever since. I "missed" one training session but what the girls don't know is I was actually there, in the parking lot, sobbing my heart out begging my dad to just let me kill myself. I tried so hard to be at training but I couldn't do it that night. But even despite it all, I knew, and I know now, that they would never judge me for all this.

Of course I signed on again this season. After our coach declined to continue, Dad was asked to be coach and he loves it - he genuinely loves all the girls and brags to his football team about what a great group of girls he has. Dad and I actually sold our house (after 20 years there) and moved closer to my teammates. Prior to this, we had lived 45 mins from my home ground. That's how much of a difference being part of this team has made to my life. Our biggest life decision in 20 years was made with the consideration of where my football team plays.

This season I tried to come off my Zoloft (which I am on for my OCD) and I became irritable and actually nearly got sent off in a few games. But my team understands me. They accept or dismiss my apologies as unnecessary and they love me anyway. It may be even because of my honesty. I don't know. All that matters to me is that they love and accept me.

I missed the last game of the season this year because my flight to England was 35 minutes before kick off. At my last game, most of the team agreed to come out to dinner with me to celebrate. I was only missing one game (and hope to be back in Australia in time for the next season) but they did the most amazing thing for me. After hearing of my Will Blog For Music campaign, the girls raised $100 to contribute and signed a huge card for me.

I cried. In many ways, I still feel like that bullied, outcast little girl, so to feel so accepted and loved by an entire group for exactly who I am, flaws and all, means more to me than any of the girls could possibly understand.

Today I spoke to Dad and he told me about the last game of the season that I missed to catch my flight to London. The girls, the amazing group of girls that I am so honoured to call my friends, wore yellow tape on their arms (the way other sporting teams were black arm bands as a mark of respect after a death) to show that I was there with them in spirit. I wear yellow tape on my football socks, that's the link there, but when Dad told me that, I cried. They didn't do it "for me", as in to tell me to make me happy, they did it "for me" in that they genuinely care about me and wanted to feel me there in spirit with them.

My team! See their yellow arm bands for me?

Since it was father's day, they also signed a father's day card for Dad and gave him a box of chocolates. Seriously. That's the group of girls I am talking about. That is my group of girls.

Even this post doesn't capture how I feel about my football team. How do you explain the way you feel for people who made you feel like a worthy human being, who welcomed you entirely for the first time ever and who, in essence, saved your life? I'm known for being quite verbose but in this case, I simply have five words.

Thank you. I love you.

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions:

• Who do you owe thanks to?
• Where do you feel the most comfortable?
• What's been your experience with team sports?

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?

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.

How to sleep like a princess

Forget shoving a pea under your mattress. I'm going to teach you how a princess really sleeps. Follow my handy step by step guide and you too can wake up looking like this!

As soon as you get home from work, sit in front of the TV with your laptop on your lap for no discernible reason other than to look down at Twitter every now and again. This also provides a good cover to avoid conversations you don't want to have. "Sorry, I was reading a really important article on a topic relevant to my professional field of interest. What inane crap were you prattling on about?" This is more effective when the person is not standing behind you looking suspiciously at the LOLcat riding an invisible bike on your screen.

10.48pm Finally have a shower. Dance around under the water because your body has now decided it has energy.

11.06pm Emerge from the shower & make it as far as the couch.

11.19pm Realise you are cold. Cue the further realisation that you are sitting on the couch in your wet towel chatting happily to Twitter. Get your dinosaur PJs on.

11.24pm Sit back on the couch with your laptop on your lap.

11.29pm Decide you should go to bed if you have any chance of waking up at a decent hour.

11.30pm Realise the next show on Fox8 is your favourite ever episode of Family Guy. (It always is.) Don't actually watch, just sit in front of the TV tweeting.

11.59pm Tell Twitter you are going to bed.

12.02am Put your wheat pack in the microwave for four minutes. Princesses don't have time for such trivial things as creating their own body heat. Tweet.

12.03am Look at the microwave. Still three minutes to go. Tweet.

12.04am Assume three minutes has now passed. Get impatient. Tweet.

12.05am Get bored and go sit back down on the couch to wait.

12.17am Remember your wheat pack. Find it's not that hot anymore. Put it on for another two minutes. Tweet.

12.19am Put the wheat pack under the covers as you set up the 1951 version of Alice in Wonderland on your Xbox to watch while you fall asleep.

12.20am Crawl into bed and wrap yourself around a wheat pack the size of a computer mouse. Curse every decision you ever made that lead to you sleeping alone. Tweet about it.

12.22am Check Twitter. Join in to a conversation about what the modern day equivalent of a mix tape is.

12.24am Get engrossed in Twitter-flirting with the hot guy from overseas.

12.37am Realise you aren't even watching Alice in Wonderland. Tell Twitter this time you really are going to sleep.

12.38am Turn on the sleep app that is actually a finely tuned, custom made track  - a blend of a river, rain, birds, a music box, underwater sounds, something called Duduk and something called Toskana. Dock your iPhone and set the volume for 20.

12.39am Grab Puppy, the stuffed dog you've had since you were three, from under your bedside table and curl up under your quilt. Shiver.

12.46am Suddenly realise that not only are you not asleep, you're somehow on your iPad which was beside you in bed and are now looking at Twitter.

12.47am Assume the correct princess sleeping position. This is difficult to master but if you are a true princess, you will not be able to sleep any other way. For this you need two pillows. Lift the top pillow and lie on the bottom pillow. Curl up on your side. Let the top pillow rest on top of your head to create a gentle weight on your ears. Pull the corner of the top pillow case around your head, covering your eyes like a Zorro mask, but leaving your nose free to breathe. Tuck this pillow case corner under your head to keep the pillow in place. Tuck Puppy under your arm and then pull the quilt right up under your chin. If done correctly, this is what you will look like.

1.01am Look at the clock. Flip over and assume the princess sleeping position but facing the other way.

1.15am Look at the clock. Flip over and assume the princess sleeping position but facing the other way.

1.33am Look at the clock. Flip over and assume the princess sleeping position but facing the other way.

...

...

Awake to the sound of "Shine on you crazy diamond" - Pink Floyd. Realise this is your ringtone, not your alarm tone, which is "Nothing at all" - Rob Dougan. Throw the pillow off your head. Look at the phone. It's your boss. Look at the time. It's 9.42am. You're already 42 mins late for work because you forgot to set an alarm. Again. Panic.

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions

• Do you have any bedtime rituals?

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?

I reject your reality & substitute my own!

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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?

Who is Samantha Mawdsley?

I am the girl who loves so deeply she has panic attacks about losing people.
I am the girl who cries listening to both ‘Perfect People’ - Pennywise & ‘What a Wonderful World’ - Louis Armstrong.
I am the girl who owns nearly every Tim Burton movie ever made.
I am the girl who was taken to a llama farm as a surprise 18th birthday present.
I am the girl who is Miss Leyburn 2007.
I am the girl who sleeps with a large hunting knife hanging on her bedpost and knows how to use it.
I am the girls whose favourite Christmas CD is by Hi-5.
I am the girl who still believes she’d be happier if she got that walking dinosaur in grade 6.
I am the girl who has two trophies to prove how smart she is.
I am the girl who swore at age 16 she’d write for The Courier-Mail, did so at 21 and had a book deal two years later.
I am the girl who drove around Mount Panorama at Bathurst on her Learners.
I am the girl who has never smoked a cigarette or tried drugs.
I am the girl who has 717 Twitter followers and has tweeted 40,176 times.
I am the girl who has been diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
I am the girl who pretended to flash her boobs in a grade 11 film project that is still shown at her school.
I am the girl who once had second and third degree burns on her butt and her hand. But not at the same time.
I am the girl who is going to be the Anna Kournikova of golf.
I am the girl who wanted to be a palaeontologist and a marine biologist but hates studying science.
I am the girl who will do almost anything to prove she’s not scared.
I am the girl was was the voice of IKEA Queensland.
I am the girl who was the 'after' photo on the front of a magazine.
I am the girl who is allergic to being touched.
I am the girl who handed in English assignments typed up on a typewriter. In 2002.
I am the girl who tried to grow a peach tree in my backyard.
I am the girl whose first crush was Jim Carrey.
I am the girl who has seen more football matches than girly movies.
I am the girl who will one day know “The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe off by heart.
I am the girl who collects snow globes from places she has been.
I am the girl who had the courage and strength to beat a dependancy on anti-depressants.
I am the girl who has been kissed by a dolphin and Michael Buble.
I am the girl who owns over 350 LP vinyl records.
I am the girl who believes in love and magic.
I am the girl who is going to be a star of the literary world.
I am Samantha Mawdsley.

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Who are you?

What are YOU afraid of?

What is your biggest fear? Apparently around one in ten people suffer from a phobia and the most common are

1. Arachnophobia (The fear of spiders)

This phobia tends to affect women more than men.

2. Ophidiophobia (The fear of snakes)

Often attributed to evolutionary causes, personal experiences, or cultural influences.

3. Acrophobia (The fear of heights)

This fear can lead to anxiety attacks and avoidance of high places.

4. Agoraphobia (The fear of situations in which escape is difficult)

This may include crowded areas, open spaces, or situations that are likely to trigger a panic attack. People will begin avoiding these trigger events, sometimes to the point that they cease leaving their home.

Approximately one third of people with panic disorder develop agoraphobia.

5. Cynophobia (The fear of dogs)

This phobia is often associated with specific personal experiences, such as being bitten by a dog during childhood.

6. Astraphobia (The fear of thunder and lightening)

Also known as Brontophobia, Tonitrophobia, or Ceraunophobia.

7. Trypanophobia (The fear of injections)

Like many phobias, this fear often goes untreated because people avoid the triggering object and situation.

8. Social Phobias (The fear of social situations)

In many cases, these phobias can become so severe that people avoid events, places, and people that are likely to trigger an anxiety attack.

9. Pteromerhanophobia (The fear of flying)

Often treated using exposure therapy, in which the client is gradually and progressively introduced to flying.

10. Mysophobia (The fear of germs or dirt)

May be related to obsessive-compulsive disorder.

Of those, I fully understand being terrified of spiders and flying. I have always been scared of spiders. They're hairy, they run too fast, they are there on the wall when you least expect it, they have far too many legs and they just generally creep me out!! This is a fear I guess I was born with. It's also the most common fear.

Flying however, that's an acquired fear. Prior to developing my fear, I had flown to Adelaide and back and made the following journey: Brisbane - Cairns - Hong Kong - London - Trevisio - London - Shannon - London - Hong Kong - Brisbane. The day prior to developing my fear of flying, I had flown from Brisbane to Seoul and was somewhere in the air over an ocean on my way to London when it happened. To sum up the story, I heard the captain tell the entire cabin we were having "technical difficulties" and "were going to descend". As I mentioned, this was somewhere over an ocean (I suck at geography and can't be bothered looking at a map to figure out which one) so I panicked. They don't call it "The Miracle on the Hudson" because it's easy to land on water! So I told the English girls behind me we were going to die, panicked a lot and then, after every TV on the plane simultaneously went blank, I demanded an air hostess tell me what was going on. Turns out the technical difficulties requiring we "descend" were the TVs having trouble and we were actually going to "reset". Embarrassingly, I knew this as I was the one who'd complained about the TVs to begin with... But, the damage had been done and after fully believing I was going to die on this God-forsaken hunk of metal hurtling through the sky... I've avoided flying ever since!

So tell me, what is YOUR biggest phobia?

Miss SAMawdsley xx

* * * * * Click to see the responses * * * * *