Watson My Mind

By Kayleigh Watson

All of my life as far back as I can remember I have suffered with anxiety...

Depression raised its ugly head further down the line. I am also 99% sure I have PMDD yet no one seems to know what this is... anyone else?

This is my first ever attempt to put it into words. This is not an all doom and gloom book but rather a compressed story of my life, how I have managed and overcome some aspects of what life can throw at you.

I have also been very open about thoughts and feelings to show you guys that you are not the only ones out there that have these thoughts. Even though I know you think it's only you. No one else suffers like this, right?

This is a story about good and bad choices, my ups and downs, and the daily fight within myself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: NewGenerationPublishing
• Release date: Jan 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9781803691466

Book preview

Chapter 1: Little me

‘Where did it all begin?’ is a question I ask myself on many occasions. ‘Why do I feel this way?’ is another. What did I do wrong to deserve this awful feeling? The list is endless for someone like me.

I know there are lots of people in this world that feel this way and I do wonder if anxiety works in the same way for me as it does everyone else. It can’t though, surely, because it only feels like me suffering… I know that’s not true but it’s certainly how it feels.

Going back to when I was a child I was always known as the quiet one, the onlooker, the speak up, Kayleigh, for heaven’s sake sort of child. School was always difficult for me, even in a time when children were meant to be carefree and judging people wasn’t yet a thing.

Looking back over my reports from junior school I could see in every one of them how my next achievements would be to be more confident and speak up, but how could I possibly know how to just be more confident at such a young age? They don’t teach that kind of thing in school… Well at least they didn’t back then anyway as it didn’t appear to be such a huge thing like it is today.

If I knew the answer to a question it would have already been answered by the time I found the confidence to even raise my hand, so I guess maybe I just felt like not bothering to try anymore. I mean, I knew the answers – I just didn’t say. On those occasions where I did brave to raise my hand and I was chosen to speak it was as though I could feel all eyes on me, and I didn’t feel comfortable with it at all. I would give my answer and although most of the time I was correct (because there was no way I would have raised my hand for a guess) I would still feel a weird pressure, my face would feel warm and my hands would be clammy.

Why did I not have it in me to do this simple task? Why was I always so afraid? I look back now and I still wonder why. That’s another thing about anxiety though, it is very hard to just let things go. The tiniest of things can set something off and you will think about it for days, weeks, month’s years even.

I remember even now at the age of thirty-one performing an assembly in junior school. I was able to walk on my hands and because of this I was going to do it in the play. I was so nervous about it on the night that while doing it, I fell. I’m sure no one was really that bothered, but for me it felt like time had stopped. If I hadn’t worried about it so much and just got on with it like I had practiced then I may have been ok, but there was always a niggling feeling that I was going to fail and because of this I did, whereas if I hadn’t been overthinking it, I probably would have been fine.

Ever since that incident I have always been in this mindset where I think, well I’m going to fail so why bother in the first place, I’m just going to fail again. I feel this is possibly where my anxiety started, although it’s hard to pinpoint such a thing.

I have always been a kind-hearted and loving person, always helpful since as far back as I can remember, yet I always felt like the nobody, the one that didn’t participate in group conversations. Surrounded by people yet still lonely all at the same time.

I remember a teacher from my school called Miss Bishop who one day had a huge meltdown in the classroom. I must have been about six or seven at the time. I didn’t understand what the task was that had been set, I believe I asked a few times, yet I was still unsure. I don’t know what was going on in her life at the time but now I’m older and I know more about the world I can imagine it must have been something that was really troubling her. Anyway, I asked her again and I did not expect what happened to happen. I got yelled at in front of everybody in the class. Why don’t you understand?! I was so embarrassed. I don’t think I even cried. I was just stunned.

I know this is one thing that has certainly damaged me, I didn’t speak up at the best of times because of being so shy but after this I’m sure I hardly ever spoke again at school.

I don’t remember any apologies or even if my mum was ever told about it as the school were probably too worried about their reputation.

As I got older, I felt a little closed in. I always kept my head down and just got on with my work. I loved art and physical education. These were the only times I felt comfortable in myself to do the things I enjoyed.

I grew up being what used to be a tomboy. I loved adventure and exploring and was ok to do dangerous things. For some reason they didn’t set off my anxiety, I just got a sense of hey look what I can do.

My best friend growing up was my friend Rebecca. Her house backed onto a huge common and every time I would go to hers after school we would go and explore. We found all sorts of things and put ourselves in many dangers that we didn’t even know existed back then.

One time we found a little den where drug users had been using needles and god knows what else, thankfully we had the sense not to touch them and moved on to other areas. There were a few tunnels that went underground throughout the common.

There was a small one around about three quarters of a meter in height and probably around 100 feet long. We used to crawl through these tunnels in the dark not knowing what could be in there, feeling our way through, occasionally touching spider webs. I think in the end it managed to take us around a minute to get from one end to the other and we always felt this sense of achievement, (well I did anyway), I don’t know about my friend so much, I think she just enjoyed it.

We found another huge tunnel, this one we could stand up in and there was water running through it, leading to a stream. This one had chained gates at the entrance but us being the way we were we found a way in. We would take torches and all sorts down there to help us see. We never got particularly far through this one and even my sense of adventure held us back from going too far as it was rather creepy so to this day I still don’t know where it leads.

I still remember when Rebecca borrowed a pair of my sister’s trainers to go through it, on this day we were a fair way in when we realised the water that was usually only half a foot deep was beginning to rise. We had to then make a run for it hopping one foot at a time side to side against the walls getting to the gate. By this time the water was by our waist and we had to climb over the chained gate and climb up a sloped wall. I went first to find the only thing I could hold onto was a group of long thorns hanging from the weeds above us.

Rebecca came up behind me, slipped a few times and lost my sister’s shoes downstream! I managed to grab her and pull us both back up to the flatter ground while still holding the vines (ouch).

A woman appeared at the top of the slope and said, do you need some help? Wasn’t it obvious?

Even in this situation my anxiety levels were still calm and collected, yet I still wouldn’t put my hand up in class. I still to this day can’t understand why I could be so daring and not feel any worry at all in some bad situations yet normal everyday ones I simply couldn’t face.

We carried on with our trips around the common, wading through rivers getting soaked and covered in mud, finding rope swings and setting small fires to sit around. I would say 70% of the children of the new generations won’t ever experience the things I grew up doing now that the internet is so popular, and everyone walks around looking at their phones.

It’s a shame really, doing the things I used to do when I was young seemed like a release for me and I fear children nowadays that feel like I felt back then have only got the internet for hope. I always had fun with my friend, she was the kind of friend who really made me laugh, the kind of laugh where you laugh so much you don’t make any noise, you just roll around holding your stomach and then just when you think you’ve managed to control yourself your eyes meet and it sets you off all over again.

We shared our first alcoholic drink together in the common, a bottle of red wine that we stole from her parent’s cupboard. We climbed a tree and found a little spot to sit. We felt so naughty as we obviously were not old enough. Maybe around eleven/twelve by this point. We had a few sips, pulling awful faces and feeling so grown up. We must have managed about half the bottle before giggling and falling off the branches into the small stream below (still giggling). Nothing ever seemed to hurt when we were younger. We were still in that bouncy stage! Whereas now it hurts just getting out of bed in the morning.

We made our way home both starting to get worried that we were going to get found out. We slowly made our way up the garden like in one of those missionary films, hiding behind things and popping up occasionally to see if anyone was around. We made it to the back door then straight up to her room falling on the bed laughing, heart still pounding! Luckily her older brother and his friend were home and her parents must have been shopping.

When they realised we were back at the house they instantly knew we had been drinking. I’m sure they gave us a load of bread to eat. We weren’t wasted obviously as it must have just been about a glass each that we had