'The Co-Op Partner You Never Wanted' Panel Project

Last year, I had a intense panic attack that forced me to bail from a Panel I was speaking on, and run out of PAX Australia. This year, I have a goal: A panel discussing real stories of mental health experiences, ways real people have received help and learnt to manage their disorders, research and information about how common these disorders are, and how games (something we all enjoy) can help.

I've requested that this panel be in the same room, at the same time, on the same day as the panel I didn't make last year. It's terrifying, but important.

There was an idea for an intro video involving as many people as we can saying “Hi, I’m Jiggsy, and I live with Anxiety every day.” I fell in love with this idea for a few reasons. It brings together a group of people who share similar experiences, and will help show others watching how common this is. We can help destigmatise mental health disorders. You wouldn't try and walk off a broken leg, so why try the same approach with your brain?

Which brings me to the video project. There are two core tenets I want this panel to be focused around.

1. You Are Not Alone.
2. It’s Okay to Ask for Help.

Starting a panel with a video of people openly mentioning their stories and struggles, I feel, would be immensely powerful. In a room of anywhere between 1,000 and 3,000 people, the statistics suggest that 200-600 of them will experience a mental disorder. Showing them that they don’t have to do it alone makes a massive difference. I know this, because it did for me.

You can read about what happened to me last year here.

So how can you help? You can be a part of this video, no matter where in the world you are. Simply add your name and email address to this Google Form, and I'll invite you to a Dropbox folder you can submit your video to (You will need to sign up for a free Dropbox account if you don't already have one).

Instructions on formats and resolution, and most of this message, are in text files in the folder too. If you know someone that may be interested, let them know! I'd prefer to have too many videos to include in the final cut than only a few.

There's a trust system in place here, and I'd appreciate it if we all worked towards the common goal of showing others (including ourselves) that we're not alone in this. Please don't violate each other's trust.

Finally, please don’t feel that just because you’re here now you have to be a part of this. It’s entirely optional, and if you decide at a later date that you no longer want to be involved, that’s also okay. Just let me know, and I’ll delete the clip, and make sure it’s not used in the final cut, which will also be available as it progresses in this folder.

Thank you. You Are Not Alone.

Jess ‘Jiggsy’ Hodgson

A Change in Seasons

Today is my Niece's 1st birthday & her Christening. I won't be there to be named Godfather because I've been anxious about the trip for weeks, didn't think I'd make it, and  can't push myself that hard this soon.

It sucks. Definitely one of the lowest points of this journey, but it's also a great chance to reflect on how far I have come, and to use as motivation in the future.

This week, I accomplished things that felt impossible days before. I got back to work just in time to help reveal Battlefront and geek out about Star Wars. I rode to work each day, and walked home again Friday. And it was easier to do because of the support I get from you.

Everyone at EA has been amazingly accommodating and helpful. In the past, I would've sabotaged my career and work relationships to avoid feeling like I'd let people down, but having people there who just want to help me get better has made a huge amount of difference. I'm incredibly lucky.

The Storm Before The Calm

Today is a good day.

After Saturday's events, I haven't been feeling anywhere close to 100%. It was hard to walk back in the doors at PAX, but I was spurred on by the thoughts of all the support I'd received. And I'm glad I did.

It was a little weird, though. I had many people telling me how strong and courageous they thought I was, when in reality I felt anything but. I couldn't shake the feeling that at any moment I was going to flip out and run again.

I took Sunday pretty easy. I chatted to a lot of people, gave and received SO MANY hugs, and didn't drink. I had a decent dinner, and a quiet night, surrounded by a few close work friends and many, many glasses of water.

Monday was worse. I'd been working myself up about the flight home from Melbourne I was due to take that afternoon, and already in a semi-fragile state, was worried I'd have another attack and not be able to get on the plane. Panic set in. Breathing techniques held it at bay, but even the thought of heading to the airport would set me back a step.

My partner Rae was amazing. We brainstormed solutions. I'd planned to take a week off (ironically to destress) on the Gold Coast, so I already had time off work. That meant that in theoty, I could stay another night and build up to getting back on the plane.

But I was still scared.

There was an overnight train heading back that night, and after convincing myself that it would be like a hotel room that moved closer to home, I decided to go for it.

It wasn't without it's small challenges though. Trackwork meant that it'd be a coach ride to Broadmeadows, and then the train. Another variable. And there was a long 5 hour wait between deciding, and doing.

I'm honestly not sure what made me able to get through it. I legitimately felt that at any moment The Thought would come into my head again. Even after the coach ride had ended, and we waited for the XPT to arrive, there was some doubt I'd manage it.

Thankfully, I had the (pretty expensive) sleeper berth all to myself, and could sit, listen to music, and breathe. All things considered, it was actually a rather nice journey. I'm not sure when I first fell asleep, but I woke up as we stopped at Wangaratta, feeling slightly worried that I hadn't even hit NSW yet. And then I woke up again as the train took a sharp turn, rocking back and forth enough to fling my phone off the windowsill. And then again sometime around 4am. And finally, to a knock on the door delivering me my complimentary (read: included in the exorbitant price) 'Continental' breakfast.

I don't know why it's called that, but there was nothing continental about it. I'm pretty sure trains are the last place you can find those weird 'barely a mouthful' cups of juice or water with the foil lids, too.

And these humourous little thoughts helped. It wasn't long before familiar stations were flashing past (and my phone had decided to connect back to the real world after hours of no signal), and I was off the train. Yes, it took 12 hours, but I slept for most of them, surely.

Once home, I went straight back to bed. After staying at the Hilton in Melbourne, the cardboard pillow and prison-slab mattress on the train weren't exactly comfortable, and I longed to feel the safety and security of my own bed, in my own room, in my own home.

And then I awoke. The feeling of impending dread had lifted, both with the knowledge that I'd made it home, and the excitement of taking the first step on my journey to mental health.

I'm booked in to see a new GP tomorrow, so we can discuss a referral to a specialist. I can feel the calm coming, and the storm is dying down.

A Note on Today

"I can't do this."

Those four words seem to be my Kryptonite. All it takes is the tiniest trace of that thought to drift through my brain, and I break.

Today (literally an hour ago at the time of writing this) I rushed out of PAX Aus, bailing on a panel I was excited to be a guest on, and hid from the world in my hotel room, due to a colossal panic attack. Not even ten minutes before that, I was fine. Laughing and joking with a few friends as I walked towards the Dropbear theatre to meet my fellow panellists... and then The Thought popped in. "I can't do this."

Within seconds, I was a wreck. My eyes had glazed over, my stomach was churning, and I could feel the chemical reaction taking place, with every fibre of my being screaming at me to get out. Even now, my hands won't stop shaking.

Apparently some time ago, I decided that the best thing to do in this situation was make myself throw up. Maybe it worked once, and I clung to that tiny victory too hard, the logical side of my brain jumping to the conclusion that this was the Cure. So I did what I would do any other time this situation happened; headed for the nearest bathroom.

I still had that thought on repeat through my brain, like War Drums, beating a rythym of failure, reverberating through my very core, and I went into full blown panic mode, running back to 'safety.'

I want to take this moment to apologise. To the panellists that I feel like I bailed on, to the people that came to watch, and to everyone that reached out to see if I was okay.

The truth is, I'm not.

I've been pretty open about my anxiety, and for a little while it worked to help me manage it. Hearing that I wasn't alone, and conversely showing others that they weren't, was powerful, especially when you feel helpless and alone.

Recently my panic attacks have been coming harder and faster. I don't know what the cause is, or even what situations can trigger it (beyond the obvious public speaking and flying, ironically two things I vehemently adore doing). I do know that it's a feedback loop. I get anxious about having an anxiety attack, which leads to me getting anxious, and occasionally explodes into a full-blown panic attack. Like today.

It's not good enough.

I've let it control my life too long, under a thin veil of 'managing it'.

I tell people the reason I haven't got a passport is because there's nowhere I really want to go. That's a lie. I have panic attacks before an hour long flight. The thought of anything longer than that absolutely terrifies me. Not because I'm scared of flying, but because I believe the scale of the panic attack I'd have would be exponentially bigger.

I don't have a licence for a similar reason. I'm scared I'll crash. I've only ever been in one car accident that involved another vehicle, I wasn't even driving, and the only physical damage sustained was to the car.

I'm sick of feeling helpless and vulnerable. I'm over the incredibly unhealthy act of throwing up to feel better. I'm done with feeling like I'm letting people down.

I'm seeking professional help, because I don't feel strong enough to do this by myself anymore.

And that's okay.

I'm writing this because I have been open about everything to do with my mental health before, and now that I know it's okay to seek help when you don't have the tools to do it yourself, I hope anyone that reads this knows it too. I feel horrible about how things went down today. Embarrassed. Furious at myself. And no matter what anyone says, I feel like I let people down.

And I won't let it happen anymore.