In 2018, I was in my 30s and living in Oakland, California, having moved there from the UK in 2015. I had always struggled with anxiety and panic attacks, but I was doing fairly well – until suddenly I wasn’t. I started having back-to-back panic attacks, wandering the streets of Oakland and nearby Berkeley in a desperate attempt to shake them, without success.
My life felt like an out-of-control fairground ride. Actually, it felt more like an entire theme park. I could see the rides in my head: attractions like the Emotional Rollercoaster, representing the rise and fall of a panic attack, the Depression Obstacle Course, a treacherous and challenging trail, and the House of No Fun, a confusing maze of dissociation and depersonalisation.
