My first impression of the room is that it is small and unassuming.

A desk and chair fill most of the space; there is a smaller table in the corner with a box of tissues on it. I could not describe it as cosy but it definitely felt private, which is something I needed for the conversation I was about to have.

As the anticipation for that conversation builds, I can feel harsh palpitations racking against my rib cage and a thick lump is lodged in my throat. I feel strangely parched and as if I could cough, but I avoid it considering what that means nowadays. These are feelings I am all too familiar with and they are part of the reason I’m here.

After years of panic attacks, intensely depressive episodes and invasive suicidal thoughts, I decided to take the step that, in hindsight, I wish I had taken far earlier.

I contacted Advice and Counselling. The whole procedure to organise an appointment had been easy, but not painless. My silence had felt like the only power I had, over what I had acknowledged long ago was mental illness, and somehow, I felt I was doing those years of resolve a disservice. Even though I knew staying silent was trapping me in a dangerous cycle that wreaked havoc on every aspect of my life, it was familiar territory. Talking to someone about what I was going through? That was unfamiliar and terrifying, but also necessary.

The first step in contacting the Advice and Counselling service was to fill in an online form that asked questions about my wellbeing, mood and whether I had been having suicidal thoughts. Within a couple of days, the service responded and offered me an appointment with a counsellor. The appointment would be online, of course, but they offered me a room in the department if I did not feel I had sufficient privacy at home.

And that is how I ended up in a small and unassuming room where something happened that has changed my life forever. According to the British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy, 1 in 5 people have consulted a counsellor or psychotherapist. Even with the weight of stigma associated with talking therapies, around 20% of our population has needed to talk to a counsellor or psychotherapist at some point in their lives. When I look back on the things that held me back from getting help in the first place, stigma had a role to play. It was not that I thought less of talking therapies, but I felt guilty accessing those services.

In my mind, a certain type of person needed those services, and i was not that person; i did not have any past traumas that had instigated my problems and all in all i have been very lucky with my lot in life.

What would I even talk to a counsellor about? How ungrateful I was for having all these beautiful things in my life and yet feeling the way I do? In the small and unassuming room, I learned a lot about myself and the ways in which I think. With the help of the counsellor I confronted not just what I was feeling, but why I felt that way. They helped me find the strength to go and talk to my GP, who was as supportive and kind as I hope to be as a doctor in the future.

Through the Advice and Counselling service, I was also able to see a psychiatrist, and after almost a decade of self-diagnosis it was official: generalised anxiety disorder (GAD) and depression. It was no surprise to me, but finally acknowledging my feelings for the past decade as a medical condition like any other and getting treated for it has changed everything.

It is not so much that I do not get the feelings I did before, because in truth I still do.

Medication has helped with my depression but has been much less effective in managing my anxiety. Being in a pandemic in particular, means there is plenty to be anxious about and it often feels like my panic-prone brain monopolises on that. GAD takes things that seem like normal anxieties and exponentially amplifies them, to the point where the very thing I am worrying about is ridiculously unlikely to ever happen.

Something important that I took away from counselling is what it means to look after myself. Instagram and other social media outlets seem to have glamourised the idea of ‘self-care’; one post in particular recommended a fancy bubble bath, a clay mask and a glass of wine to sooth a troubled mind. As luxurious as it sounds, that type of self-care is not for everyone; sitting in a bath alone with my anxieties all buzzing around my mind was almost hellish and adding alcohol to the mix ended up as a disastrous cocktail. That is not to say that it would not work for someone else, as that bubble bath could be exactly what someone needs after a stressful day.

It is more to say that self-care does not always look as picture perfect as instagram lead me to believe.

I have found a good way to judge whether a self-care activity is working is to take note of how I feel before and after said activity. Anyone who has experienced anxiety is familiar with the conflicting feelings of burnout and being 110% alert simultaneously; if this improves, the self-care activity is worth repeating for me. Painting my nails, face masks and bubble baths can be for pampering; taking self-care seriously means pursuing activities that help me feel less burnt out and more resilient to the craziness happening in the world around me.

Self-care activities that work for me are not the ones that I expected to work. One thing that has been incredibly effective has been spending time with dogs; I joined a site called ‘BorrowMyDoggy’ that puts me in contact with dog owners in my area that are looking for people that can walk their dog or look after it for a few hours. Not only was spending time with loveable dogs amazing, but it also gave me a change of scenery by getting me out of the flat and into my local parks. I was noticeably more relaxed after these walks. Another activity that has been an emotional outlet is putting on some sad music and letting myself cry. I can freely let out big ugly sobs and all the negative emotions that have accumulated with it. I listen to audiobooks I used to listen to as a child that help me feel safe. These activities are tried, tested and actually help. Maybe they are not quite Instagram worthy, but they work for me. I guess what I am trying to say here, is that self-care is not a one-size-fits-all approach to wellbeing.

In my experience, finding things that actually add to my wellbeing has helped improve my ability to cope with daily challenges, which some days can be just getting out of bed. Looking ahead into the future, it seems the end is tantalisingly in sight for this pandemic. Isolation and spending every day much like the day before has taken its toll on everyone. Looking after each other and our own mental health is more critical than ever before. Counselling helped me muddle through the complicated emotions that were poisoning my life and self-care has helped me build up energy reserves to deal with any problem that rears its head. It is far from perfect but I have not felt this hopeful about the future in a long time. I hope this message reaches anyone who needs encouragement to talk about what they are going through or is finding it hard to look after themselves at the moment.

Reach out to someone you can talk to; reach out to a counsellor; if sitting in your bed crying helps you get through it, then do not for one second feel ashamed to do it.

Contact details for QMUL Advice and Counselling:

Phone number: 020 7882 8717

Website: welfare.qmul.ac.uk/our-services/

Other services you can contact:

Your GP

Self-refer to psychological therapy services (IAPT) - you need to be registered with a GP

nhs.uk/service-search/find-a-psychological-therapies-service/)

Samaritans 24-hour helpline: 116123

Urgent NHS mental health helpline: nhs.uk/service-search/mental-health/find-an-urgent-mental-health-helpline