What's Normal Anyway? Celebrities' Own Stories of Mental Illness by Anna Gekoski Page A
Authors: Anna Gekoski
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anxiety, panic attacks, agoraphobia, and depression at various stages throughout her life and is a patron of the mental health charity Rethink. In 2005 she received an OBE for her services to drama, the elderly and mental health charities. Stephanie has a daughter, Emma, and lives in a village outside Bath, where the interview for this chapter took place.
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You must have had such a long trip to come and see me. Have some coffee before we start and these biscuits are rather good. Are you happy talking at the kitchen table? Iâll put the answer machine on so we donât get disturbed.
Now, anxietyâs an interesting word. Itâs interesting that weâve chosen to use that word â âanxietyâ â because itâs quite a small word actually. It implies, if someoneâs anxious, that itâs a little bit of a worry. For me, thatâs what it implies: one step on from worry. Youâre worried about something and then youâre anxious about something. And to be anxious sometimes is normal, God forbid we should lose our flight or fight instinct because thatâs what keeps us alive. Itâs when youâre anxious over those things you donât have to be anxious about â thatâs when itâs not normal. Or to be anxious to a degree that the circumstances do not call for. Itâs when our brain uses it when honestly there is nothing to be worried about, when it cranks up the dial on everything. To be anxious about something is copeable with, but this is much, much more, itâs a much bigger thing. It is anxiety writ large.
I didnât, of course, know what its name was when it started, because I was just a child then. I just knew that it was very uncomfortable and frightening. I remember a couple of times, when I was going to school on the bus, actually being overwhelmed by what I now know is panic. I remember fainting at a bus stop; in fact, it was not a faint, it was a panic attack. It then came to a point when my parents were asked to go somewhere in the early evening, where children were welcome, so we set out in the car and I was overwhelmed by this terrible, terrible panic that I just couldnât cope. I started to cry and said I couldnât go and I had to go home, so they turned around and we went back home. But of course, at the time â weâre talking the late â40s, early â50s â if a child behaved in an odd way it was usually put down to a sort of naughtiness. Then I happened to overhear a neighbour who said to my mother: âOh, sheâs probably got it off the radio or televisionâ, so it was put down to my . . . my acting tendencies. That what I was actually doing was trying something out, you know, that it was sort of play acting. Well it wasnât, it wasnât. And then it went away. Why, I donât know. How, I donât know.
It wasnât until years later, when I started to have panic attacks after my daughter Emma was born in my early thirties, that I actually recognised what it was. I was very, very depressed after she was born, and that quickly developed into appalling anxiety and panic attacks, which started very suddenly, when she was three or four months old, I would guess. Looking back, it started as post-natal depression but nobody diagnosed that. You know, I completely adored my daughter, I just fell totally in love with her the minute she was born, but I was feeling just absolutely overwhelmed. I was completely convinced I couldnât cope, that I should never have done this. It was also partly due to the fact that my first husband, though a sweet man, was completely incapable of taking any responsibility. So therefore everything devolved to me; this tiny thingâs welfare devolved completely to me. And although I had a lot of friends in London, where we were living, most of them had not yet become mothers so I didnât have that sort of back-up. And my mum, who we normally turn to,
***
You must have had such a long trip to come and see me. Have some coffee before we start and these biscuits are rather good. Are you happy talking at the kitchen table? Iâll put the answer machine on so we donât get disturbed.
Now, anxietyâs an interesting word. Itâs interesting that weâve chosen to use that word â âanxietyâ â because itâs quite a small word actually. It implies, if someoneâs anxious, that itâs a little bit of a worry. For me, thatâs what it implies: one step on from worry. Youâre worried about something and then youâre anxious about something. And to be anxious sometimes is normal, God forbid we should lose our flight or fight instinct because thatâs what keeps us alive. Itâs when youâre anxious over those things you donât have to be anxious about â thatâs when itâs not normal. Or to be anxious to a degree that the circumstances do not call for. Itâs when our brain uses it when honestly there is nothing to be worried about, when it cranks up the dial on everything. To be anxious about something is copeable with, but this is much, much more, itâs a much bigger thing. It is anxiety writ large.
I didnât, of course, know what its name was when it started, because I was just a child then. I just knew that it was very uncomfortable and frightening. I remember a couple of times, when I was going to school on the bus, actually being overwhelmed by what I now know is panic. I remember fainting at a bus stop; in fact, it was not a faint, it was a panic attack. It then came to a point when my parents were asked to go somewhere in the early evening, where children were welcome, so we set out in the car and I was overwhelmed by this terrible, terrible panic that I just couldnât cope. I started to cry and said I couldnât go and I had to go home, so they turned around and we went back home. But of course, at the time â weâre talking the late â40s, early â50s â if a child behaved in an odd way it was usually put down to a sort of naughtiness. Then I happened to overhear a neighbour who said to my mother: âOh, sheâs probably got it off the radio or televisionâ, so it was put down to my . . . my acting tendencies. That what I was actually doing was trying something out, you know, that it was sort of play acting. Well it wasnât, it wasnât. And then it went away. Why, I donât know. How, I donât know.
It wasnât until years later, when I started to have panic attacks after my daughter Emma was born in my early thirties, that I actually recognised what it was. I was very, very depressed after she was born, and that quickly developed into appalling anxiety and panic attacks, which started very suddenly, when she was three or four months old, I would guess. Looking back, it started as post-natal depression but nobody diagnosed that. You know, I completely adored my daughter, I just fell totally in love with her the minute she was born, but I was feeling just absolutely overwhelmed. I was completely convinced I couldnât cope, that I should never have done this. It was also partly due to the fact that my first husband, though a sweet man, was completely incapable of taking any responsibility. So therefore everything devolved to me; this tiny thingâs welfare devolved completely to me. And although I had a lot of friends in London, where we were living, most of them had not yet become mothers so I didnât have that sort of back-up. And my mum, who we normally turn to,
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