Please note: This blog post contains a personal account of an anxiety attack. If you are likely to become upset or distressed by reading a personal account of an anxiety attack, do not read on.
Write about... anxiety
I reckon it’s been over a decade, maybe even two decades since I last had a serious anxiety attack. Before today that is. Today’s attack was surprising and intense. And it happened in a swaying gondola high above the canopy of a rainforest in North Queensland. If you had to choose a place to have an anxiety attack, a swaying gondola is probably one of the worst places you could choose. There is literally no escape, no reprieve at all until the gondola reaches it’s destination.
The worst part of it was, I was alone.
There was no one to soothe me, no one to talk me through it. No one but me. So that’s what I did. In between sucking in tiny gulps of air, I tried to talk myself through it. My self talk consisted of positive affirmation (It’s ok, you’re ok, you’re going to be ok) mixed with self-loathing (you idiot, why did you put yourself in this position) and power phrases (you are strong, you are brave, you can do this). It’s hard to choose the most terrifying part, but definitely the thing I liked the least was the shuddering of the gondola whenever it passed under a gantry. Being able to focus on that one aspect allowed me to prepare myself for every gantry crossing with the mantra “jiggle, jiggle, jiggle” a second or two before the gondola did indeed jiggle, jiggle, jiggle.
The ride from the Smithfield Skyrail terminal to the Kuranda terminal involves two stops, at Red Peak and Barron Falls, with a ride of about 10 minutes in between stops. At the first stop, Red Peak, I scrambled out of the gondola and said urgently to the smiling attendant “that was terrifying, I don’t think I can do that again.”
Enter Chanel, a friendly, calm Skyrail staff member, who comforted me and told me there was no rush to get back on. She steered me toward a seat, telling me to sit a while, drink water and take deep breaths. She also told me that if I really didn’t think I could get back on then they’d find another way to get me back down to Smithfield. Knowing there was an option there if I needed it, was incredibly helpful. After a while my breathing slowed, although my breaths were still shallow. I walked around the observation deck to a lookout, and waited there for a half hour or so, until I felt t I could go on.
Back at Red Peak station I waited in the queue for the next leg of the trip. I got to the front of the queue, saw the gondola coming and squibbed it. I headed back down the stairs to try and get my breathing under control again. Chanel noticed I had left the queue and she wandered over and stood with me a while, until it was time for her break. She promised to be back in 10 minutes. I decided I couldn’t let this awesome young woman see me sink down any further, and i headed back up the stairs and into a gondola.
This time, as well as the “jiggle, jiggle, jiggle” mantra I put my headphones in and listened to music. Again, I was alone in the gondola. My breathing was still shallow, and I still had a few leaky tears and fearful squeals and moans, especially when the gondola came to a complete stop at one point, but the music definitely helped distract me a little from my fear.
At Barron Falls I was able to walk around the observation deck (avoiding the section with a glass floor), take photos, and talk to people. I didn’t need as long to recover from my panic as I had needed at the earlier stop.
For the third leg of the trip, I was again in a gondola alone. I relied on what had worked for me so far, the “jiggle, jiggle, jiggle” mantra, music and the positive self talk from earlier (you’re going to be ok). I even took photos and made a video, so I had a record of what I was experiencing - like I could ever forget it, right?
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| Me, being deeply unimpressed with the Skyrail experience, due to anxiety. |
When I arrived at Kuranda I was greeted by another female staff member, who took one look at my face and just knew there was something amiss. She told me that if I didn’t think I could go back down by Skyrail, they’d find another way.
I walked out of the Skyrail station thinking, that’s it, thank god, I don’t have to do that again. As I wandered through the village of Kuranda, I didn’t feel well at all. My legs were heavy, my head was thumping, and I still couldn’t get enough air into my lungs. My chest was tight and painful. As I walked up the main street a glance to the right revealed a sign, “Massage” it said. I scuttled toward the sign, which was in front of health food shop. The young woman in charge was sympathetic, but had bookings all day. Then she handed me a business card. “This woman is in the Heritage Market and she’s awesome. You should give her a call.” I was literally 5 minutes walk from the market, so I just headed over, and found Debbie.
Debbie is one of the best massage therapists I have ever encountered. She asked me what had brought me to her today and as my tale of airborne panic spilled out of me, Debbie tapped the middle of my back, gently and repeatedly. As I talked, and she tapped, I started to feel calm. Debbie spent about 20 minutes teaching me where Meridien points are in my body and how to tap them, so that I could perform this therapy on myself, whenever I needed to. She also explained to me what cortisol and adrenalin were doing to my body at that moment, and how the more she tapped, the more I returned to a better colour. What? I asked, what colour am I now? Red, she said. Bright red.
An hour-long massage followed, and it was definitely one of the best massages I have ever received. In her little cubicle, with a wide window overlooking a small man-made lake (in which I could see freshwater crocodiles) Debbie skilfully found all of the pain and tension I was carrying and with firm gentleness she released it. By the end of the hour, I felt like all the tension I had been carrying not just today but for many months, now had an avenue for release, and I felt a smile stretch the skin on my face.
Debbie then offered to drive me back down from Kuranda to Smithfield. What an absolute angel. I couldn’t take up her kind offer though. It was totally out of her way and I have never really been one for shying away from life’s challenges. I wanted to go back down in that bloody gondola again, just to prove to myself that I am not anxiety’s bitch. So we came up with a plan to keep me calm on the way back down.
I spent a bit more time in Kuranda. Lunch, wandering, looking, soaking it all in. And then I returned to the Skyrail terminal. As I moved forward in the queue, I could feel my breathing start to constrict again. Nup, not doing it, I decided, and fled to the bathroom. Some breathing exercises later, I rejoined the queue.
There was a big queue of people waiting to head back to Smithfield, so there was no way I was going down in a gondola on my own this time. The female staff member I had spoken with earlier greeted me warmly and told me she was proud of me. She put me in a gondola with another solo traveller, a guy in his thirties from either the U.S.A. or Canada - I couldn’t really tell and didn’t want to ask - and a couple of guys in their twenties who appeared to be visitors from Japan.
I felt sorry for them, and hoped I wasn’t about to ruin their Skyrail experience. Headphones in, music cranked up, I started tapping the side of my right hand with three fingers of left hand, just like Debbie showed me. At the first gantry I whispered “jiggle, jiggle, jiggle”. Everything was going to be ok.
When we arrived at Barron Falls, the solo traveller in his thirties told me he found the “jiggle, jiggle, jiggle” mantra weirdly comforting, which was pretty awkward for me for a moment because I hadn’t realised I was saying it out loud.
In the next gondola I was seated with a family of four, visiting from China. To the young boy, I said “can you see the waterfall?” before cranking up the music again and resuming tapping the side of my right hand.
When the gondola arrived at Red Peak, Chanel was waiting. She said “I’m so proud of you!” and she told me she noticed I wasn’t there when she got back from her break, and had wondered what had happened to me. She said she asked her male co-workers “what happened to our lady?” Those same male co-workers, when I had spoken to them about being scared and anxious had both said “you’ll be ‘right,” which I think they thought was comforting. When it came to practical and useful advice and assistance, it came from the women I met throughout the day.
On the final leg, I rode the gondola with a woman in her sixties and her son. The woman tried to chat with me but I explained there were things I needed to do in order to get down to the bottom in one piece, mentally, so to speak, and she left me to it. Earphones in, music cranked up, tap, tap, tap on my right hand, steady breaths, jiggle, jiggle, jiggle.
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| Me again, on the final leg, riding through the clouds, deciding I wasn't going to be anxiety's bitch. |
At the bottom, I clambered out slowly, smiling. I had done it! As I walked back in to the Smithfield terminal, I saw a man leave the office and administration area. His name tag said “general manager” and I smiled at him. “Just the person I need to see,” I said, before telling him how awesome and caring his staff had been with me today.
“You would be surprised how many other people experience the same thing on Skyrail,” he said, “even today, there were other people feeling the way you felt.”
I found that a little bit comforting. In my most terrified moments, my aloneness was really heightened. But maybe I’m really not so alone after all.
Notes:
If you're not afraid of heights you should totally ride the Skyrail to and from Kuranda. The scenery is really beautiful, Kuranda is a gorgeous village full of lovely people. Don't let my experience put you off - it wasn't about the ride, it was about the rider. If you're in North Queensland, do this.
Marvellous massage therapist Debbie can be found at Kuanda Massage Services.
