The 150ft String - Part 2

My last post was written about one of my favourite memories when I plunged off a 150ft platform holding a bit of string for dear life.

The story was always going to have a follow-up because all of those feelings I had that day were something I became very familiar with on a frequent basis and not because I took up jumping off things as a hobby but rather that anxiety became an unwanted fixture in my life. At one point it had got so bad that the same fear, dread and all the physical symptoms I felt that day at the top of the platform were exactly the same feelings I had just trying to get out of bed in a morning.

I don't remember when it first started but I certainly recall when it came to a head. I was out shopping, on the downwards escalator (how fitting) of a department store when from nowhere I lost the ability to breathe. As I came to learn from a doctor much later it was my first ever panic attack.

As time went on things got worse. Most days started with headaches, dizziness, nausea and a heart rate akin to that when I completed my powerfan experience. I was signed off work, initially for a week to "recharge my batteries" but that week became 2 and then another and all during that time I began to completely close off from everyone. I was scared, I didn't know what happening and took solace in being alone.

Eventually the doctors refused my pleading for more time off. My job at the time had been extremely difficult and I had also wanted out for some time, I just didn't have the confidence to even try to get out though. In a strange way I had a uncomfortable comfort blanket wrapped around me and in the end I stayed way longer than I should have done, and I admit that when I did leave it didn't end well for anyone. 

But leave I did. The previous job wasn't good for me and I took a new position and for a while things were better, or so I thought. I don't know if the change of scenery had masked things but it wasn't long before I started to get ill again. Not long after starting we had a family holiday booked in Belgium, one night my wife and I were having a glass of wine when out of nowhere it all poured out. It was the first time I had truly opened up towards my health; there were tears, confusion, all sorts of different emotions - but it was the start of getting it out in the open.

I'd love to say the next day started with a beautiful sunrise but it was actually the loudest thunderstorm I've ever heard but I swear I felt different. I felt honest and crucially I didn't feel alone. When I returned to work I spoke to my manager and the head of department. I was petrified that they'd think they had wasted their time but they listened. They didn't tell me to snap out of it or tell me work had been slipping and that we were in danger of deadlines being missed due to me being off. They told me that work was fine, everything was being looked after and whatever I needed from them they would do it. I believed them and was right to do so.

Previously doctors had reached straight for the prescription book, I'd never had a specific diagnosis but rather had been giving an array of tablets to tackle all the symptoms I'd been having or it was put down to stress. I went back and spoke to a new doctor. He listened to me for a long time, and told me he wanted me to speak to a counselor and if I wanted to try some other medication I could. I did take him up on the offer but it didn't last, it just never worked with me but that isn't to say it doesn't help. Through my journey I've spoken to many people where it has helped them massively.

My first session was terrible and I came home in tears. I had told work beforehand I'd needed an hour or two away and they told me to take the day off. I still rang in and my manager (ma'am) told me how everything was fine and to relax, talk to my family and stop thinking about databases for a little while. The next day I was tentative going back but had a short meeting to discuss where I was and what I was doing next, again with their full support.

Then a diagnosis came from the doctor and counsellor. Generalised Anxiety Disorder. It was very common, it causes a whole array of symptoms and is often not even diagnosed properly. Knowing what "it" was also meant I could open up and tell other close family and friends what was really happening because until now they were blissfully unaware, and I'd got very good about putting a mask on things.

I also had to confront a personal fear, I needed to tell my Dad how things were. This was a moment I was really worried about. My dad was old school, ex-military, former rugby player and in my eyes the toughest thing on the planet. I expected a rollicking more than anything else but I was badly wrong. He told me the mind is a precious thing and I needed to look after it and that he was there whenever I needed it. I still shed a tear whenever I think of that moment, miss you Dad X.

I began to stop trivialising my problem. For a long time I labelled it as stress, something that everyone has from time to time and I had no right to be struggling with it. I had felt weak. I had felt immense guilt and shame for not being strong enough to cope. I was scared of burdening those around me and that fear had prevented me from reaching out to those close to me for way too long. Now I had broken that cycle.

Two important words for me are awareness and acceptance. It took me a long time to become aware of my anxiety and even longer for that awareness to be shared with those close to me. Accepting that I was not OK and that it's perfectly normal to not be was also a big turning point. Once I truly arrived with a sense of both I felt I could move forward.

Sometimes you have to stand up to something and fight it toe to toe. I've done that many times by refusing to let my anxiety stop me from doing something I want or need to do. Just like the powerfan when my mind was telling me I couldn't do it and every part of my body was frozen I've still been able to push through. Sometimes, just like that day I have asked for a gentle push over the ledge when I've needed help.

But I've also learnt it isn't just about fighting. A lot of the time taking up the fight is just too draining, even thinking about it can be. It's those times where simply coping is what we really need to do. At times I've found this difficult, I've wanted to keep going on when the reality is I've needed to stop, switch things off and take a break; sometimes for an hour, sometimes for much longer. I try to be much more aware of this but it's not easy, life throws plenty of curveballs at us and we can't spot every single one. That's fine, getting things wrong is often more of a case of discovering something that doesn't work for us at that moment, that is not a bad thing.

I said there would be a happy ending and there certainly is. I'm still here. It might not sound a lot but to me it's huge and something I think about often. I have a lot of gratitude, I'm deeply thankful for all the support that has been there from family, friends, colleagues and at times total strangers.

I'm sharing my experience to let anyone who needs to know that you're not alone. You are strong. You're showing the most incredible strength, bravery and courage living and facing something day after day and that is OK and you're going to get through this. It takes help, it takes reaching out and I can assure anyone it's not a burden. People help, that's what we do.

Thank you for reading, I appreciate it's a bit of long read but if you'd like to ask me any further questions then please reach out, my personal email address is david.alcock1@googlemail.com and I will answer.

The 150ft string

Hastily written, apologies but it's a good story nonetheless.

I'm petrified of heights. I get dizzy on the second step of a ladder, get jelly legs on bridges and don't even mention plane take-offs! So I'm as surprised as anyone to be blogging about me standing on a 150ft platform about to walk off holding, no clinging, onto a piece of string for dear life.

The story actually starts with Jack Osbourne and his Adrenaline Junkie TV show. My wife and I were watching it one evening and after one particular crazy stunt I happened to mention the words "I wish I could do that".

In time I learnt there's a huge difference in what I say and what someone understood and on Christmas morning that year I opened a surprise present, the triple whammy at Magna. The triple whammy involves a zipline, a 150ft abseil and to top of the day a walk off a 150ft platform holding a rope, plummeting to the ground until a powerfan slows the descent to a stop. To be clear, I did not WISH I could have the opportunity to do that, I just wished that I had whatever it took to enjoy these sort of things - turns out with wishes you have to be very precise!!

It only took me 7 months to book it. I'd put it away hoping it would be forgotten but no, the reminders came weekly, daily, then hourly until I finally gave in and booked the experience for September. 

It's amazing how time flies when you're really not looking forward to something but here we were at Magna on a lovely September morning. I'd been awake since 3AM. I felt sick, I was absolutely petrified and would have given anything to do a runner, but I couldn't, here we go!

There were three of us there for the experience, we had the safety briefing and proceeded to experience number one, the zip line. I'd love to say I charged in to be first but no, when it came to volunteering to who goes first I hid well behind the others. The zipline wasn't that bad to be honest, I was strapped in and don't remember a lot of it apart from spinning around a lot.

Next the abseil. This was the first part where I had climb up to the platform used by abseilers, powerfanners and bungee jumpers (which thankfully I wasn't doing). I remember climbing flight after flight of metal steps which was really difficult when you're shaking like a leaf. I got to what I thought was the platform but was greeted by a sign saying "YOU'RE HALFWAY THERE". What made matter worse for me was a person being brought down from the platform, they couldn't go any further and were being accompanied back. I froze, seriously, I couldn't move at all.

I wish I had some advice of how I decided to go further but I have no idea. There was no moment of inspiration or injection of courage I just sort of thought I had no choice really, my wife and 2 kids were here supporting me and I wouldn't have heard the end of it had I done a runner!! Arriving at the top platform I did what everyone tells you not to, I looked down. I think it was only because I had an empty stomach that prevented me from throwing up over the side. I couldn't make out anyone on the ground, I was dizzy and could only hear the rather horrific screams of people jumping off - who for some bizarre reason were having the time of their lives.

The abseil person spotted me and called me over. They hooked up the ropes and told me the descent would be very slow and controlled. They told me nothing can go wrong and just enjoy it. Enjoy it? Pfft. As I was being lowered off the platform I lost control of my vocal chords (at least it wasn't my bowels), I was almost crying as I was suspended in mid air, with a lot of nothing but air underneath me making a rather audible whimper.

I reckon it took at least four hours to get down, that's how it felt anyway. I adopted a similar motion to rapidly milking a cow to literally inch down the rope tiny bit by tiny bit. I eventually got to the ground and was greeted by some staff asking me if I enjoyed it, no was the honest response. I didn't enjoy it one bit, hated it, there was no rush of excitement, I just wanted to be sick.

After the abseil I bumped into one of my group of three. They'd had to do the abseil in tandem with one of the helpers, they weren't doing the powerfan, they'd enough! Can't say I blamed them at all! The powerfan involved the same walk up to the platform, it wasn't any easier or any faster and if anything it seemed way higher than last time.

The powerfan platform was shared with the bungee jumpers. I walked over trying my best not to look down, I still did. Funnily enough my vision had now resembled a bungee, the ground sort of moving up and down, perhaps it was the nausea. Anyway, I got rigged up in my safety gear. The instructor spent an age telling me what was the plan, basically he was going to open a gate, I was going to hold on to a piece of a string and simply walk off making sure I look forwards at all times because if I look down I'll spin a little.

Just before we were opening the gate a call came over the radio, a bungee jumper had to go before me so I had the luxury of trying to remain calm for a few extra minutes. I watched the bungee jumper shaking my head. By now all my nerves had gone, I was shaking but I couldn't feel it, I was sweating and my stomach hurt really bad. It was time.

The gate was open, on the count of three I was to walk. 1...2...3...GOOOOOOOOOOOO

I was stood there. Slightly hunched over and bent at the knees, frozen. I told the instructor I couldn't do it. Every part of my body wouldn't move. I'm so sorry I said, I literally can't move. The instructor reminded me to breathe (fair point) and told me how I'd got this far and if I didn't do it I'd seriously regret it. Despite me thinking quite the contrary he said he'd been there himself and seen it many times.

I asked him for a favour. If he got to 3 on the next count could he push me off. I said if he gets to 3 and I haven't moved I won't do it and I'm happy for a nudge. He laughed, said sure and told me to get ready.

1....

That's all I heard and I went.

Seriously, I don't know how but I did it. I also have no idea what sound came out of me at that very point. It wasn't a roar of triumph, a scream of excitement or anything particularly inspiring. It was more like a very loud retch than anything else but hey, I don't think many people noticed.

I can't remember much else, I could hear the powerfan on the short journey down, I also ignored all instructions and looked down at the floor rapidly heading towards me and when I reached the bottom was almost horizontal. The instructors came over and I was buzzing. Seriously, it's the first time I'd experienced an adrealine rush. It was amazing but also knowing that I never had to do that again was very much at the front of my thoughts.

So that was it. I got a t-shirt and I'd love to say it cured my fear of heights but the week after at Alton Towers I was still limited to the Cyril the Squirrel ride and more than happy with that. I still don't do ladders. I conquered something however briefly and lived to tell tale but I think more than anything else I learnt to make sure people understand what I mean at all times!

There is a second part to this story, it's different and goes into a difficult time in my life but equally I hope can raise awareness and offers a bit of support and encouragement, you can read it here.