Living with anxiety: how daily panic attacks and suicidal thoughts impacted my school life
Kate Anderson was 18 when she went to the parlour to have a tattoo inked on her wrist.
It was her first tattoo and a relatively small one, but the semi-colon that she wears with pride represents a lifetime of struggle.
Anderson, a project worker from Surrey, has wrestled with anxiety and quiet borderline personality disorder (BPD) tendencies for much of her life, but lockdown exacerbated the conditions.
‘My anxiety manifested as chronic overthinking, which impacted my physical health: I often experienced dizziness, nausea, heart palpitations and sleeplessness.
“Some weeks I went four nights without sleep. My anxiety made me struggle a lot with fatigue and depression,” Anderson, now 19, explains.
‘When I was at school, I normalised my anxiety because I didn’t understand the difference between feeling anxious versus a Generalised Anxiety Disorder.
“Teachers taught strategies for dealing with worry, but these strategies weren’t consistent with what I was experiencing.
“While most of my friends worried about their exam results, I struggled with sitting through the exams. I had a lot of silent panic attacks. I gave in many empty papers because I struggled to hold a pen from shaking, and overthinking affected my focus.
“My anxiety made me regress academically and this regression caused me stress’, she adds.
As Anderson approached year 11, her anxiety was so bad she was having daily panic attacks and missing lessons. She would spend registration and lunchtime in her English teacher’s classroom, where she felt able to process and regulate her feelings.
“Sometimes my anxiety was so physical I’d stay there throughout my next lesson. Other times I went to pastoral care. I spent a lot of time hiding in the toilets because I was afraid of showing my emotions; I didn’t know what to do with these thoughts and feelings,” she says.
Lockdown exacerbated her symptoms and, by the end of 2020, she had a breakdown.
“Lockdown was isolating and affected my sense of security; I anticipated more to go wrong because the pandemic was so unfamiliar and unpredictable.
“It made me feel more unstable. My anxiety made me feel depressed and I experienced suicidal ideation daily.
“I was overwhelmed by how vivid my suicidal thoughts were; I’d imagined how people would react if I killed myself. I broke into tears mid-lesson and spent two hours crying and having panic attacks in the toilets.
“There wasn’t a moment a day when I wasn’t thinking about suicide. I found this very distressing.”
Anderson sought help from her mentor, her English teacher, who met with her and provided practical and emotional support.
She explains: “She taught me how to communicate my feelings and restored my sense of security by giving me a safe space and listening. I gave up on mental health services until I met her; she reminded me how helpful it is to talk about mental health.”
Anderson also believes she has borderline personality disorder, which affects her relationships.
“I direct feelings of shame, self-blame and guilt inwards, which causes mood swings that no one else sees. Relating to the diagnosis helps me to understand myself holistically: the link between my complex trauma, my body and my mind.
“This helps me to distance myself from unhealthy thinking patterns and behaviours.
“Projected from unstable attachments, I fear being a burden: I internalise intense emotions and chronic people-please to avoid confrontation or abandonment, leading me to unhealthy boundaries and toxic company.
“This pressure leads to black and white thinking: perfectionism, self-blame, hopelessness and burnout.
“During crisis, this has escalated suicidal ideation and self-sabotaging behaviours, such as self-harm, alcohol abuse and self-isolation,” she explains.
“A few years ago, I remember not being able to say the word ‘suicide’ because talking about my suicidal ideation reminded me that I feared for my wellbeing and life.
“I found this very distressing; I had anxiety attacks over trying to say it. In crisis, there have been times where I’ve withdrawn, had panic attacks, self-harmed and had flashbacks of past experiences,” she explains.
But because Anderson is high-functioning and her panic attacks internalised, her crisis isn’t always visible.
And talking about how she feels helps, she explains. Which is why the tattoo has been so effective.
“I haven’t self-harmed since getting my tattoo because the semicolon communicates that I have lived experience; I find this validating.”
She has had support from her doctor, a psychiatrist and Child Adolescent Mental Health Services, as well as private counselling, all with mixed results.
But the most effective steps have been volunteering with a local horticultural wellbeing project and her tattoo.
“Strangers approach me telling me they have the same tattoo, and we share conversations about our experiences. It’s helped me to create an environment where people know they can open up to me about their struggles.
“I think creating and finding these communities is so comforting and empowering. I’d love to see this more in the broader community.
“I do still struggle with my mental health, but I have a healthier mindset towards wellness; I understand that healing isn’t becoming the best version of myself.
“That’s helped me a lot. I appreciate the journey I’m on and how far I’ve come, and I’ve learnt to accept feeling healthier yet not healed.
“I have learnt so much from all my hardships, experiences and in sharing them, and its given me so much purpose and hope that I thought I’d never live to have.”
Cover Media