Georgia Pritchett - My Mess Is a Bit of a Life: Adventures in Anxiety

To all the hamsters Ive loved and lost

For The Speck, The Scrap, The Moose, The Witch, and The Patriarchy

As a very last resort, before I chose how to make my exit from the world, I decided to see a doctor.

My mess is a bit of a life right now, I mumbled. Wait, that came out wrong...

She indicated that I should elaborate. But I couldnt. I couldnt speak. The words wouldnt come. They were there but they were out of my reach. She referred me to a therapist.

I went and I said nothing. I didnt know what to say; I didnt want to say anything, and even if I did want to say something, the alien and the moths and Godzilla and the Dark Overlord Beaver made it impossible.

After weeks of silence, I was losing hope.

Her: How are you?

Me:

I tried to speak, but the moths were flapping furiously in my brain, the alien was pounding on my chest, Godzilla was stomping all over my inner Tokyo, and the Dark Overlord Beaver was tucking into my intestines.

Her: Can you tell me whats going on?

Me:

The moths began bombarding and ricocheting inside my skull, the alien had acquired some kind of enormous mallet, Godzilla was roaring and obliterating my inner Tokyo, and the Dark Overlord Beaver was now gorging on my innards.

Her: Can you tell me how youre feeling?

Me:

I summoned all my strength to reply and took a deep breath in. The moths suddenly stopped flapping; the alien stopped mid-pound; Godzilla stood, helicopter drumstick in hand and foot hovering over a building; the Dark Overlord Beaver put down my lower intestine. They all cocked their heads and listened to what I was going to say next.

I swallowed. I breathed. I swallowed and breathed. Simultaneously. Triggering a coughing fit. Godzilla rolled his eyes. The Dark Overlord Beaver and the alien exchanged a weary look. A moth tutted. And they all resumed what they were doing.

Her: Are you anxious about anything?

I nodded.

Her: Can you tell me some of the things that worry you?

I shook my head.

Her: Maybe you could write them down... ?

And so I did.

My earliest memory is of sitting in my stroller in the snow. I was three. My mum said to my brother, Dont fall over in the snow. Then my brother fell over in the snow.

This made me realize:

1. Bad Things happen.
2. Bad Things happen even if you tell the Bad Thing not to happen.
3. Were all doomed.

One day when I was at nursery school, my dad came to collect me. I remember looking up from my crayoning and seeing him at the door. I waited to be called but nobody called me. Finally, when all the other children had gone, I was allowed to leave.

As we walked home, Dad explained that when the teacher asked him who he had come for, he couldnt remember my name.

So instead he described me.

Shes small.

The teacher said hed have to narrow it down.

Shes small with curly hair.

The teacher said hed have to narrow it down some more.

In the end, the best he could come up with was Emilys friend.

After that I worried that I wasnt really me. I worried that I was a different friend of Emilys and nobody had noticed.

When I was little, I used to worry that I would die in the night and that my family would not be able to manage.

So I would write notes with useful information like:

The peanut butter is in the cupboard that has the broken handle.

Hammy likes to have sunflower seeds for breakfast.

We need more tiddlywinks because I ate them to see if they tasted like Smarties.

Tiddlywinks do not taste like Smarties.

One day I arrived at nursery late. All the other children were there. My favorite place on the rug was takenthe one where you could hold a crayon against the radiator and watch while it melted.

As I unzipped my anorak, I realized that everyone in the room was singing Were Going to the Zoo.

This sent me into total panic. I absolutely on no account wanted to go to the zoo with other children. Not now. Id had no warning. I wasnt prepared. I had the wrong socks on. Also, since when did people deliver horrific news in the form of a song? It seemed inappropriate.

Could I run? Could I hide? I zipped my anorak back up and considered barricading myself in the playhouse. As I crawled, sniper style, towards the plastic door, the children started singing Jack and Jill Went Up the Hill. Now theres a song. Short, succinct, and with a clear health and safety message. Why on earth were these people in favor of going to the zoo, when a mere trip up a hill caused one child to break his head and another to suffer from numerous undisclosed injuries? Luckily, after a quick burst of Humpty Dumpty (who, lets remember, died from sitting on a wall), they wandered outside to play in the sandpit. They must have changed their minds about going to the zoo. Disaster averted.

I hated milk. One morning at nursery, the teacher told me I couldnt play with the other children until I had drunk my milk. Sometimes everything goes right. I didnt want to play with the other children AND I didnt want to drink my milk. I sat inside on the floor the whole day.

That was a good day.

We had a goldfish, a cat, a hamster, and a tortoisewho hibernated all year round (so on reflection was probably dead)but none of them would let me dress them up in my Snoopys outfits or have tea parties with me. What we needed was a dog.

I really, really wanted a dog. My brother wanted a dog so he could train her to do tricks. My mum wanted a dog because she prefers them to humans. But my dad said NO. We were watching Nationwide at the time. The theme tune was like a dirge to my hopes. We pleaded but he declared he was going to have to Put His Foot Down.

The next day we got a dog. Flo lived for eighteen years. Dad said every time he looked at Flo, it reminded him of the Day He Put His Foot Down. This is why we have referred to Dad as The Patriarchy ever since. And this is why I have never Put My Foot Down about anything. Ever.

Mum always claimed shed married Dad for his money and was just biding her time until she found out where hed hidden it. (Fifty-eight years later, he remains tight-lipped.) Sometimes, when I was walking Flo with my mum, a wedding car would pass and my mum would wave her arms and shout, Dont do it, you fools! as it went by.

My mum never wore her wedding ring. But that might have been because I put it where the bulb goes in the lamp in the living room and when she switched the lamp on, it blew up.

I used to worry about the monsters under my bed a lot. Were they comfy enough? How could they sleep on a hard floor surrounded by crumbs and dust? Sometimes I slept under the bed so that they could have a turn on top.

School was a hideous shock. For one thing, it was full of children and children are idiots. Loud idiots. It made me incredibly anxious. As I stepped into school, it was like being winded. I couldnt speak, I could barely breathe.

People would say I was shy. Teachers would demand that I speak. But the words just wouldnt come. They were there but they were out of my reach.

I lost my first tooth biting into a toffee apple. I was alarmed but my mum tried to cheer me up by telling me about the Tooth Fairy. This was unwise. I was troubled by the concept of some weird old fairy breaking into my house while I was asleep and then taking body parts in exchange for money. It was the slippery slope. Where would it end? Was there an Ear Fairy? Was there a Toe Fairy? If I tucked my hand under my pillow while I was sleeping, would she take that? Sometimes at night, my head would end up under my pillow. And my head had teeth in it. Would she just take the whole thing? What was a fairys load-lifting capacity? And why did nobody have the answers to the really important questions?