Fight or Flight (a day of reckoning)

Nikki Cummings

I had always been the anxious type for as long back as I could remember. Always felt that my opinions didn't matter and that no-one cared about what I thought. Adults said I was a shrinking violet, some said it was because I was an only child. I didn't know one way or the other.

Anyway, I used to hide away from almost everything. Even at school I was petrified that I'd be singled out to answer a question that I had no hope of answering.

I knew a lot of people, but had only one or two close friends. One of those friends admitted, after years of knowing her, that she suffered the same feelings of anxiety as I. She said she'd learned how to cope by attending a centre which helps people with mental health issues. It was she who encouraged me to book that appointment at the centre.

After booking the appointment I became even more frightened but something inside me wanted to find out more about this constant fear which followed me around.

That was a few years ago now, about seven or eight if I remember correctly. Time has moved on and for me things changed, got better. Those stomach churning, nauseous moments receded and I began to see my world with less fear.

What helped, maybe it was the realisation that a great many people in my area suffer fears. They suffer them daily, some real, some imagined. But these imagined fears can stop you getting out of bed. Stop you taking part in community life. But then I learned that there are people who understand. People who'll go a long way to helping folk like me. People who respect your feelings and thoughts no matter how much in flight you are.

Then came that day. The day I could neither fight nor flight. The day I was rewarded for services to my community and the centre to which I owed it all.

The awards were given out at the Scottish Parliament building and there I was with two others from my community. We were all anxious but there was a different edge to this feeling. If I'm honest with myself, there was a deep seated feeling of joy.

When we walked into the large room upstairs in the Parliament we saw all the people sitting there. Volunteers, MSPs, managers and support workers. I began shaking like a leaf but tried to hide it. My heart was beating so fast it was all I could hear. My hands began sweating and I felt queezy. Then the lightness and dizziness, I was going to fall over. But I didn't.

The awards ceremony began and the place went very silent. I could see my heart beat against my blouse. I looked around me. There were photographs of volunteers at work. I thought then the same old feelings; that I didn't deserve to be here.

Then someone nudged me. 'He's calling your name!' I wanted to walk the other way. What if they thought I didn't deserve it? Anyway, next thing I know the MSP was beckoning me. He was smiling broadly and encouraging me up to the platform. I looked straight at him, stood up and headed forward.

He was talking about me to the audience. Saying how my efforts had helped many others through difficult times. Then came the certificate then the photographers, flashing lights, handshakes, hugs and applause, all for me.

It was then time to sit down, take my seat amongst the award holders. During lunch people kept coming up and telling me what a wonderful job I'd done for my community. How I was helping to challenge the worst effects of poverty.

Who would have thought, a few years ago I couldn't get up the courage to step out the house. But I was out of the house that day and standing in a different house. After one moment of fight or flight, I'd learned to stand my ground.