Life After Anxiety
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About this ebook
Bill was a Naval Academy graduate and overachiever who seemed to have a great life and bright future. But he was secretly harboring a debilitating anxiety disorder that made every day a painful experience.
After a near fatal suicide attempt, he decided to confront his illness and build a new life.
Life After Anxiety is an honest and revealing story about a painful battle with anxiety. It is also a story of redemption, and how one can achieve a life beyond anxiety.
Bill Jeffries
I am a computer programmer and entrepreneur. I have a computer science degree from the United States Naval Academy and am pursuing a Masters in Data Analytics Engineering from George Mason University.I live in Northern Virginia with my wife and three kids.
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Life After Anxiety - Bill Jeffries
Life After Anxiety
By Bill Jeffries
Text copyright © 2016 Bill Jeffries
All Rights Reserved
For Amy- my best friend, my partner, my soul-mate
Forward
I should be dead.
The gravity of that can pull hard on me, at times. My kids don't know how close they came to never existing. I can barely breathe thinking about it.
This is the story of a happy, healthy, successful kid who was overcome by a debilitating anxiety disorder and almost lost forever at the age of twenty three. This is a tale that is both cautionary and hopeful. Cautionary in demonstrating the speed at which a person can fall. Hopeful in proving the speed at which that same person can rise.
I’ve written this for the people who are sheltering their demons. You can fall much farther and much faster than you think you’re capable.
I’ve also written this for those who feel like they’re at the bottom, and who wonder if there is ever a way back up. There is.
Anyone can burn themselves to the ground. But anyone can rise from the ashes.
I should know. I did both.
Chapter 1: Yuma
1995
Front desk, can I help you?
Yes, I'm injured. I think I need help.
Ok, what is the issue?
My wrists are bleeding.
Oh.....I'll call 911 right away.
Thank you.
Beside the bed on the floor was a huge puddle of blood. Some hours earlier, after several test cuts on both sides, I made a deep gash in my left wrist, hung it over the side of the bed, and waited to die.
Pretty quickly, I blacked out. Throughout the night, I faded in and out of consciousness. I hallucinated about deceased family members. I was so weak I could barely move or even open my eyes.
Hours later, I was shocked to realize that I was still alive. Something inside me told me to call for help. It took all of my power to eventually pick up the phone and call the front desk.
Earlier that day, at the house I shared with two other naval officers in San Diego, I felt my mind unraveling. A decade-long battle with anxiety was taking a drastic turn. I felt that I had no way out. All of the strategies I had carefully crafted over the past ten years to escape the clutches of anxiety had failed. But I didn't feel like I could seek help. I felt embarrassed, shameful. I felt purely defeated.
I'd used up all my will to cope with this monster over so many years. All of the strength and power I had used for ten years to bury the issue and deal with life's challenges all by myself was finally giving out. I wanted very badly to reach out to someone. But my ego couldn’t endure the shame of admitting I had a mental illness. It didn't seem possible for someone like me. I was voted Most Likely to Succeed in high school. I was a Naval Academy graduate. Not me. The feeling of denial always seemed to have the final say.
I decided I needed to clear my head. My plan was to get in my car and drive around San Diego until I felt better. But after a half hour or so of driving, I started to feel darker instead of lighter.
I pulled over into a drugstore and purchased a large bottle of pain killers and a set of razor blades. Even though I still thought I could literally drive away the dark feelings, I was planning for the event that I couldn’t. I had never thought about suicide before this very moment.
Back in the car, I made my way to I-8 and started driving east into the desert. My plan now was to drive out into the open spaces until I felt better, at which point I would throw the pills and blades out the window, declare victory, and drive back home.
But as I hit Yuma, Arizona, two hours east of San Diego, I was still feeling worse. My world was getting darker and closing in on me. I felt that there would be no rescue. I checked into a Holiday Inn and prepared to end the pain.
I heard the sirens getting louder. Eventually there was a loud knock at the door. It cracked slightly open. A bright flashlight beam bounced around the room and settled on my face. I closed my eyes as a loud, authoritative voice boomed, Mr. Jeffries, is there anyone else in here?
No
, I replied. The door opened and in walked two police officers and four EMTs. My room became a flurry of activity. Two of the EMTs came directly to my side while the officers and other EMTs searched around the room. An EMT started counting the pain killers to make sure I didn't take any. Another EMT asked if I was able to sit up or walk. I told him no and they went to retrieve a wheelchair.
The EMTs picked me up and placed me into the wheelchair. I was wheeled into the dark parking lot