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@sebastyansmith-writer
What Success Means To Me
What Success Means To Me
When people find out I’m an aspiring writer they are, contrary to common expectation, quite supportive. Perhaps that’s more down to the people I surround myself with than anything. All the same it got me thinking about what writing really means to me.
Every aspiring writer has that moment where they think ‘I might become rich and famous!’ That’s a fair goal, and it’s reasonable to dream. When the…
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Her Name Was Arthur
Or:
Getting to grips with my first ever panic attack at 30
Note: The following is written chronologically. The relevance of these events only became clear after a lot of soul searching and personal psychological analysis after the fact.
Initially none of it was clear, but reaching back and finding the root cause of where I believe my panic attack came from helped massively with fighting through it and moving on.
I’ve had a few people ask for more information on this, especially those who have struggled with anxiety and panic attacks nearly their entire life. I think seeing someone process it all for the first time offers a unique angle. That’s what this post is about.
At age 5/6 our family cat gave birth to a litter of kittens. I was allowed to chose one and name it, and from that point it would my cat. Looking back this was the first meaningful instance of real responsibility, and even at a young age I understood its importance.
I chose a kitten and named her Arthur. I can’t remember if I knew her sex, or cared, but I certainly loved me some King Arthur.
How not to hold a sword
For the first time in my young life I had a charge, a living creature that would rely on me. Obviously looking back I probably wouldn’t have had to do much, but all the same I took it very seriously.
A few weeks later she died.
It was an illness no-one knew she had, and according to the vet – unavoidable.
According to my mother I was inconsolable. It took a hundred conversations to settle me, and I’m fortunate that my mother excels at emotional conversations.
I remember choosing the name Arthur. I remember the kitten dying. I don’t remember what she looked like, or crying at all. Apparently my mind decided to repress all that.
From that point on I didn’t properly connect with any of the pet cats we owned, though to such a degree that I didn’t notice until getting Ink and Bobby, years later.
Ink
Bobby
I loved animals. I practically lived off nature programs. But I had a deep, subconscious fear of being responsible for them.
This might sound all a bit dramatic but I was – and am – what some would call a delicate flower. Losing Arthur hit me hard.
It’s funny, I started talking about the above on a regular basis. Saying how relieved I was that I could open myself up again to pets, happy that I was able to let myself feel things properly, even at the risk of eventually losing them.
In retrospect this was my mind trying to draw my attention to another issue that would only become clear to me later:
It wasn’t just pets that I had began detaching from.
As a child I had a smattering of friends. I loved them, and trusted them, but when we moved away I was able to disconnect from them without much drama. They had been good people, and probably still are (this is long before social media so who bloody knows!). Yet I moved on without much of a backwards glance. When they didn’t show much interest I would leave.
Anyway, I carried on, I grew up, I was able to develop some brilliant relationships with people. Things were going really well. I grew into a happy adult and am lucky to count some brilliant people as friends.
As an aside: I think this was due to my up-bringing. My parents (and other parental figures) were superb. They installed so much strength and self-respect in me. That’s not to say I haven’t stumbled over the years and been an idiot – I have. Even so, I had an exemplary upbringing and I will always be thankful for that.
I still retained the ability to move on from people if things didn’t work out, or if they let me down. Looking back it could be something as simple as them not keeping to an arranged meeting time or place and I’d totally cut ties with them. Not socially, but I’d take away any level of trust I had in them.
This came instinctively and followed me into my mid twenties until I made a breakthrough.
I found myself trusting people again, really letting them in. Here’s the issue –
As children we learn how to let people in and how to block people out. It’s a system of trial and error which most take for granted as ‘learning how society works’. I don’t think I did that. I think losing Arthur had such a profound effect on me that I took the shortcut of distancing myself from others as a means of avoiding losing them.
On some level my ability to process trust issues stopped when Arthur died (bear with me on this).
So when I started trusting people, I did so as a child might, because that part of my processing hadn’t had chance to develop.
Someone who I deemed ‘special’ (super cringey, I know – I assure you this wasn’t a conscious distinction, but rather a subconscious one I’ve only recently identified) would be elevated to such a degree that they could do no wrong. They were perfect, they were above reproach. They could – wait for it – be trusted and relied upon! They wouldn’t ever let me down, why would they?
wow
Here’s where the healthy/unhealthy cycle begins. Through sheer dumb luck, and hopefully my own judgement, these few people never let me down. They were, and are, brilliant. My child-like projections of them were never shattered.
Until they were.
What happens when the psychological foundations of your mind that you’ve been building subconsciously your entire life begin to crumble?
I can only describe it as my brain short-circuiting. I have never had any mental health issues. I have always had a positive outlook and tend to take difficult things in my stride. I am not one to obsess, or to spiral. I was thus utterly unprepared for what was to come. All at once my mind seemed to collapse in on itself. I didn’t react like an adult, I reacted like a 6 year old whose kitten just died.
I couldn’t understand it. I kept saying ‘I don’t understand, I don’t understand,’ like an endless mantra. I was unprepared.
You see, on a level I wasn’t aware of, child me blamed himself for Arthur’s death. It wasn’t my fault, obviously, but we’re beyond normal logic at this point (keep up Neurotypicals!). Arthur had been my responsibility and she died. I internalised that and blamed myself for it.
Therefore, if I was to blame for the kitten, then adult Me was to blame for any upset caused by an individual elevated to my special little compartmentalised group of friendships. What should have been something I reacted to and processed relatively normally became a mental cliff which I promptly fell off. The two events became linked.
I tried to shrug it off as I would a regular upset and ended up crying uncontrollably in work. Fortunately my colleagues were superb and called me a taxi home. I did all the things I usually did to take my mind off it and that only made me spiral more. My thoughts were no longer my own, I felt hurt, confused, and more vulnerable than I have ever felt before. My sleeping pattern almost vanished. I would have moments of clarity, but they were quickly fog over again. I’d have good days, but always bad days would follow.
Keep in mind that you’ve had this story in order. At the point of the panic attack I didn’t understand where this reservoir of emotion had come from. All I kept doing was blaming myself and silently arguing myself until I could feel my thoughts falling apart.
Artist: Bryony Mulvill
I’ve always known panic attacks were real, often comparing them to a type of fit, but experiencing one firsthand opened my eyes. It is terrifying.
For all my strength as a person, for all my good mental health, one incident and my world nearly fell apart. Fortunately I wasn’t alone. My partner and my friends were there for me and they pulled me through it. No-one is an island.
Do you know what surprised me further? The anger. As part of my mental block with letting people in I also restrained a lot of emotion. For the first time in my adult life I felt angry. It was like a damn bursting. Every single emotion all wanted to be at the front but the anger? That bloody scared me.
It also pointed out something fascinating: as an adult I had never been angry before. Not really, deep-in-your-gut, truly angry. Y’know what? Being angry makes me want to cry.
Delicate flower, n’all that.
Fortunately a lifetime of good mental health kicked in with a vengeance.
I began exercising to give myself the impression of control over my life. I began taking B12 supplements to help with the fatigue. I also began talking about what I was going through, not just to people on social media and to friends/family, but to myself.
I started asking: Why?
I’d gone through hard things in the past. I’d felt pain and loss and sadness, so why now? That line of questioning uncovered everything you’ve been reading.
I love psychoanalysis. I love the idea of the human mind as a machine with cause and effect, with a little bit of chaos in there for good measure. Until recently I’d had little cause to direct this interest inwardly. It took two months to trace things back to the Arthur conclusion. Written down it might look silly, and to some degree it is:
Child doesn’t deal with losing kitten = adult doesn’t know how to process being let down.
It’s dumb, but it’s also an answer. Rather than endlessly repeating: ‘I don’t understand’ I now DO understand. More importantly, I can tell my 6 year old self that it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t have known what was going to happen. I can resolve the relatively innocent incident of childhood trauma.
Not me and Arthur, but probably fairly accurate. Fuck I wish I remembered more.
You see, giving myself the answer provides me with a key. I’m no longer looking outwards for a solution, I can look inwards. And until recently my own head was the safest place for me to be. Like fuck I’m giving up that ground to anxiety. That territory is mine, baby.
I can also begin to work on how I view people, how I project onto them, and why I project onto them.
This has been a chaotic post, and to get the first hand journey experience you might have to read it backwards, from panic attack to naming a female kitten Arthur.
So there you have it. My first panic attack. Such innocent, naive little origins for something that could have so easily ruined me as an adult. Ain’t the human brain great/terrible.
Weirdly, I feel stronger and more alive than I ever have.
2020 is going to be amazing, I promise.
– Seb
Her Name Was Arthur Her Name Was Arthur Or: Getting to grips with my first ever panic attack at 30…
Update 2019
That’s right – I’ve reached that point where I throw up one update a year.
Where am I with my work?
‘Death Echo: Vol. 3’ took a back seat to Proper Magic (a fantasy novel I want to get traditionally published). This involved a number of lengthy re-writes and edits but it’s finally reached the stage where I want others to look at it.
It’s not ready by any means, but there’s nothing further I can…
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Update!
[ Cover art by: xaiyasak ]
It’s been a little while since I last did a proper blog post. Rest assured I’ve been writing each and every day. That’s the strange thing with writing. The finished product is literally the tip of the iceberg, floating on the back of years of effort and struggle.
So what’s breaking the surface next for me? Well, I’ve started writing outlines for Death Echo: Vol. 3.
DE…
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Death Echo: Vol. 2 is now out! Death Echo: Vol. 2 is now out! Due to issues on Amazon's end the paperback hasn't gone live for .co.uk but it can be bought from .com.
What is Death Echo: Vol. 2?
Tomorrow (13/1/18) will mark the release of Death Echo: Vol. 2. It contains ten stories, a mixture of fantasy, science fiction, and good old regular fiction. The cover and inside illustrations were all done by Jade Andrews.
Vol. 1 came out back in March 2017 and there was a big build up to it. This release is a quieter affair.
The first volume came in at a modest 16,000 words whereas this one is…
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Death Echo: Vol. 2 | 13th of January | Pre-Order Now!
Death Echo: Vol. 2 is ready to be released! It will be available on Amazon in both eBook and paperback. The eBook version is available to pre-order now!
Vol. 2 will go live on the 13th of January 2018!
From the 9th to the 13th Death Echo: Vol. 1 will be free to download so if you missed it the first time feel free to grab it now.
You don’t have to read the first volume to enjoy the second, but…
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Have a cheeky peek of Death Echo: Vol.2. Coming out January 13th 2018 #deathecho
I haven't touched a canvas since secondary school. Watching hours of #bobross does things to a man, though. It's pretty fucking relaxing. Even if the end result ends up looking more sinister than you intended. #painting #landscape #ampainting #amaturepainter #thefirstmountain
When is your Story Ready?
‘When is it ready?’ is the ultimate question for anyone trying to create something, be it a song, a painting, a sculpture made entirely of bread-sticks, or even a story.
The answer to this is: never. That’s right. Nothing is every finished, but it canbe ‘good enough’. Everything you’ve ever absorbed through whatever media has been pushed out because it’s ‘good enough’, not because it’s done in…
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Where did Death Echo come from? My grandfather died Christmas 2016. Death had seemed a long way away - suddenly it was at the door.
Blade Runner 2049: Film Review (light spoilers)
Blade Runner 2049: Film Review (light spoilers)
Blade Runner 2049 is a 2017 American neo-noir science fiction film directed by Denis Villeneuve and written by Hampton Fancher and Michael Green. A sequel to the 1982 film Blade Runner.
I wasn’t a fan of the original. That’s not to say it was a bad film, I just went in with the wrong expectations. Teenage Seb went into expecting a sci-fi romp. Blade Runner is not a franchise that can ever be…
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After seeing #bladerunner2049 this strange feeling brought about by #hurricaneophelia is even more unsettling. I'm dreading sudden and oppressive orchestral overtures. (at Cardiff city centre)
Radio Silence = Busy Writer I'm a firm believer that the quieter a writer is the more they're writing. This has certainly been the case with me.
Emotional Support and Writing
Emotional Support and Writing
Everyone needs emotional support from time to time. We’re human, no-one is an island. And even if you ARE an island you’d probably still enjoy company.
It’s something I’ve taken for granted for quite a while: having someone close who supports your creative pursuits makes such a massive difference. My partner has always been supportive, whether its reading my stories for me, making me tea whilst…
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The Martian: Book Review (No Spoilers!)
The Martian: Book Review (No Spoilers!)
The Martian is a 2011 science fiction novel written by Andy Weir. A film adaptation directed by Ridley Scott and starring Matt Damon, was released in October 2015. I haven’t seen the film yet, so my review will be about the book only.
I started with a great deal of misgivings. I love Science Fiction, but my passion is more with the distant future. Perhaps a childhood of watching Star Wards means…
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Celebrate Prime Day with Me!
Celebrate Prime Day with Me!
Death Echo: Vol.1 eBook download free – 10th-12th of July
What is Prime Day? No-one really knows. Our most learned scholars say it has something to do with Televisions. Whatever the case may be I’d like to invite you to enjoy Death Echo for free! I’ll be making Death Echo: Vol.1 free from Monday, July 10th until Wednesday, July 12th. That means you can download the full book, illustrations…
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