Panic Attacks are bull. Why do you exist?

You’ve probably seen on this blog that I like to complain about things, a lot. If not complaining, I’m reviewing something, or talking about something or something something about something. One thing you probably have come across, a few years back, if you have read that far back (I will not judge you if you have not), are my posts about that time I had a really bad chest infection and thanks to my asthma, I ended up in hospital for like a week, over Christmas, whilst I tried to recover on their God awful food, and the weird staff and terribly crap way of showing someone who has asthma to hold on for not 10 minutes but 5 hours. But this post isn’t about that. This post is about the other crap that comes, sometimes with asthma. The one and only anxiety attacks, also known as panic attacks.

I actually can remember my first time I had a panic attack and it wasn’t even something remotely cool tbh. Come to think about it, it embarrasses me that I will admit this. I was at a house party, at 16, when I was at college, and only really known as Pink Trouser girl (don’t judge me), dating a total douche bag, who obviously was in a band, who invited me and my fellow nerdy friends to a house party in Heston. I lied to my mum and told her I was staying at a friends’ house. I wanted to be cool, but I really wasn’t. I was just naive and stupid, clearly. Everyone was being cool, hanging out with each other, listening to music, making out, jamming, playing bass, singing, drinking or smoking weed. Coz why the fuck not, we’re 16, there’s no parents, that’s what all teens do, isn’t it? I don’t smoke weed. I can’t. I turn into some barbie nightmare, of giggling fits, paranoia and pass out, all of those either before or after throwing up. That night, I thought it was somewhat a great idea of ‘let’s be cool around the cool people’ and sit in a room of people smoking weed, because again, seriously why the fuck not?! I wasn’t born with asthma, actually that came a year or so after this panic, but it sure did change my whole family’s views on just about anything.

Anyway, back to where I was before. We were all chilling out, giggling away, passing around that joint, it came to me and I pulled on it. I didn’t like it, but because all eyes were on me and I didn’t want to look like an idiot, I puffed a few more times on it. Honestly it was disgusting. Nasty as! We went outside and I swear my chest felt like a child was jumping up and down on my chest, then clutching at my airways in the process, shaking every living and breathing self of mine out of me. It was terrifying. I wanted to call my mum, but knew she would kill me and most definitely did not want to go down that path. Thankfully someone had a blue salbutamol inhaler on them and after a lot of calming down, breathe Dannii, FFS breathe, that was the last I really remember of that night.

After that little episode, I didn’t really get another one for a few months. But seeing as my family have history of chest problems, it was always going to come up with the doctor when I’d go for a check up. See, I was diagnosed with asthma way before I was even given the prognosis that it was a panic attack. I wasn’t even sure that that time was a panic attack. I thought it was me being a dumbass paranoid kid who smoked a bit of pot and I couldn’t tell the difference. See, that was the worst. When I got my pumps when I turned 17, after a lengthy hospital appointment about allergies and all that crap, I was told it was asthma. So I was completely unaware the difference between the two for years. Worse even, if I had both of them today. Panicking because I couldn’t breathe. That was a freakstorm. Something, also, I noticed worried a heck of a lot of people when I started to black out or not be ‘in the room’ anymore.

It’s one of the scariest things to have happen to you. The prospect of it happening in public is a nightmare. I haven’t had one for a while, in public, I mean, but it’s enough to make you never want to leave your house again. I had one a few months back, but thankfully had a friend on the phone who calmed me down.

I can go for weeks, months or even years, without one and not feel like it affects me at all, but one small thing and boom, it’s triggered again. Anything can trigger it. ANYTHING.  I’m not going to go into some spiritualist, I can cure the world bullshit on how to prevent panic attacks, but I will share a few things I’ve picked up along the way that has certainly helped me over the years to decrease the number of panic attacks I have per year. If it helps, great. if not, check out NHS.

What is a panic attack?

Panic attacks often start during times of higher than normal stress in life. It could be a build-up of many things. The high ‘background stress’ can ‘overspill’ into a panic.

 How to deal with a panic attack

  • Annoying as it may sound, panic attacks are all in the the mind. A panic attack can be frightening, a really uncomfortable experience, but it is absolutely 1000% not dangerous. It’s a state of mind, not an illness.
  • You’re not alone. It may feel like it, well, it does, plenty of times, but you’re not alone. So many people, have panic or anxiety attacks. Everyone experiences feelings of anxiety and panic at certain times during their lifetime. It’s a natural response to stressful or dangerous situations.


At least one in 10 people experience occasional panic attacks, which are usually triggered by a stressful event. Panic disorder is where a person has recurring and regular panic attacks. In the UK, it affects about two in 100 people, and it’s about twice as common in women as it is in men.

  • Panic is just excess adrenaline that runs through you body when it’s confronted with a possible life-threatening situation that can also be caused by something that’s triggered in an event from your past that placed you in a threatening situation. It’s all physiological. Annoyingly. It can be scary, but the feels you have, is just your body telling you to stand up and fight or run away from potential danger. Calming yourself down and allowing yourself to breathe, helps your body to protect your mind.
  • If you’re unsure about whether or not if you have anxiety or panic attacks, go see a doctor. It doesn’t hurt to ask. They can advise your next steps.
  • Speak to people. It may seem daft to you, but speaking to people, friends or family, or people down the pub, gets it off your chest and you’ll be surprised how understanding and supportive people will be. It’s so common these days that a friend of a friend or a relative of a friend or whichever has had some form of anxiety at some point in their lives. Don’t be afraid. It’s normal!

Just remember, Professor Paul Salkovskis, a psychologist at King’s College London, says it’s important not to let your fear of panic attacks control you. .

Panic attacks always pass and the symptoms are not a sign of anything harmful happening,” he says. “It’s important not to restrict your movements and daily activities.

If I’ve missed anything out, or you would like to add to it, please comment below.

Thanks xoxo


Being ill sucks

I hate being sick. I have been roughly ill 6 times this year and it seems that I’m not the only one that has been contracting just about anything that has shown its face and made us ill. I am currently wrapped up, like a fig roll, in PJ’s, covered by a cardigan, wrapped in a fleece and doused in a duvet, in my bedroom, with my teddy nearby, copious amounts of glasses of squash by bed, floor swamped with ibuprofen and paracetamol, with my laptop perched on my lap for good measure, whilst trying to see the screen – I know it’s a glasses wearing moment, but my face feels puffy and wearing them makes me feel like Domo, except less cute and dog like.


Excuse the image of my rather unfortunate sad looking face, but trying to manage a smile, when I feel like dog shit, is a really hard thing to do. I don’t care, also for not wearing make up, so piss off you haters.

So, after calling my doctor and not being able to move, from this delightful spot in my bed, the best recommendation, is taking drugs, plenty of liquids and rest and trying not to stress. Great. I work in recruitment, how can not talking to people and not being able to talk, make me not stress. Anyone who knows me, will know this is physically impossible in some way or another.

Swollen lymph glands are usually a sign of infection and tend to go down when you recover. It feels like my throat is the size of a giant tree branch and my face is puffy. Super puffy. The need to eat and/or drink anything is off putting even though I made a super an awesome lasagna on Sunday and I can’t eat it. Damn you sickness.

So if any of you are trying to get in touch with me, and I haven’t been responding as quickly as you may have liked, it’s because of this. I will try to get onto all emails and everything as soon as possible.

If someone could just come over and bring more drugs, baby food, a mushed up banana with melted chocolate, some warm tea, a cold press, a fluffy pillow, a hot water bottle, a little kitten, bundles of tissues, a magic wand, Chris Pine and a cure, that would mean a lot to me.


Yet another rant about Travel in London

I apologise to everyone who reads my posts and quite possibly, think ‘Oh Dannii, just shut the f*ck up,’ but, if like me you live in West London and get a train that normally shoots its way to Reading & Windsor or to London Waterloo, you’ll understand my frustration. Two weeks on from the TFL tube strikes and since the flooding has got worse, my commute to work has been a total pain in the backside.

I live in Twickenham,  just 10 miles (16 km) southwest of the centre of London, home of England rugby, lush little eateries, boutique shops and a 10 minute walk to Marble Hill house by the river or 15 minutes walk to Richmond Deer park. Us Twickers have been lucky enough not to experience the awful events that have occurred in recent weeks with this horrendous weather that has terrorised our neighbouring towns but the effects can be seen throughout our commutes. Friends, colleagues and fellow passengers have all seen the effects, some way or another getting to and from work, from all parts of the country, so this little rant, doesn’t just put us South Westies on the map.

Last week, I was late if not by 1 minute, definitely more than 15 on a few occasions. Trains were packed, squashing even the likes of local MP, Vince Cable on the train, like tinned sardines, all desperate to get to work on time for the week ahead. Yesterday, however, not so much as to a squashed sardine. Cancellations, delays and what not have caused a little fury bouncing off a few fellow commuters.


image (1)It’s sad news that even with the weather possibly clearing up that everyone who has been affected by the horror that is the floods, that it all wont be sorted for quite a few months but delays, delays, delays on all the trains. Really? Unless the weather is swishing around the station, do we really need to have to wait 27 minutes for a delayed or cancelled train? Where does it say that everyone has to turn into a ninny, as soon as a little trickle of delays are floated about?

Mind seriously does boggle, when this shit happens. Some people are just twats.

Since when did Valentine’s Day become more about the money made, rather than love itself?

Happy Valentine’s Day a whole year on from my single self. I’m now in a relationship – yippee yay and I still agree with myself from last year. Why? Well, my boyfriend is not the romantic type, unless you count a trip to Nando’s and the cinema to watch that Tom Hanks Captain something or rather. I’d like to point out, I am in no way a miserable prick, I don’t spend my time at home, plotting against Valentine’s day all year round or ignore my boyfriend when we both get home, because I’m a bitch, no, not at all. I just don’t see what all the fuss is about.

For example, my boyfriend said he would like to go for dinner somewhere, then, if we wanted, we could go for drinks later, if we wanted to. See, that sounds lovely doesn’t it? It does. Except, although a gorgeously romantic gesture, the restaurant we like going to is charging £30 extra (minus alcohol) because it’s Valentine’s Day. Er, why? You threw in some extra balloons, some pink glitter and roses and we have to pay for that too?
I love that my boyfriend treats me. He does great little gestures that mean a lot to me and that’s what makes me happy – he does that all year round. Not spending an extortionate amount of money on one day to give into the corporate money mine of all those retailers.
I’m pretty sure Valentine’s Day never started out with the Romans standing by their food/textiles stalls banging their produce about the place, desperately trying to get their customers to buy into all their shit. Not anything like the way most retailers shove it down your throats now.
It all has to be about the perfect card, perfect gift, perfect date, dinner and whatever else. Why does it have to be one day and not every day?
What is it?
There are many different stories of the origins of who or what exactly is Valentine but most say it’s from a famous saint. The day gets its name from a famous saint, but there are several stories of who he was. The popular belief about St Valentine is that he was a priest from Rome in the third century AD. Emperor Claudius II had banned marriage because he thought married men were bad soldiers. Valentine felt this was unfair, so he broke the rules and arranged marriages in secret. When Claudius found out, Valentine was thrown in jail and sentenced to death. There, he fell in love with the jailer’s daughter and when he was taken to be killed on 14 February he sent her a love letter signed “from your Valentine”.
It’s like retailers looked at their piece of history and shat all over it. Let’s fill our shops with endless crap and make people believe this is the shit they need that one day of the year, better than the rest.
The whole ‘we need a day to tell my partner how much we love him/her’ is just crap. I don’t need one day to tell them how much I love them, I do it everyday, if he cooks (rare), pulls a silly face to make me laugh (often) and everything else that makes me love him.
It’s too commercialised.
Did you know?
  • Britons were predicted to spend £978m on their wives, husbands – and prospective partners – on Valentine’s Day gifts, going out and weekends away.
  • The average spend for a man is £39.57 and £22.64 for a woman – although this varies from city to city.
  • Most popular gifts for women include flowers, chocolates and perfume, whilst men get chocolate, dinner and aftershave.
Love has nothing to do with how a retailer measures their profits. There’s too much pressure for those who are in relationships to have the perfect relationship. Fuck sake, it’s hard enough as it is, without having to make it perfect. Nothing in life is perfect, especially a relationship. It’s hard work. For those who are single, stupid retailers make everyone believe that being single sucks, fuck you it doesn’t.

So whatever you are doing this Valentines Day, have a good day. It’s a Friday, like every other Friday, get drunk, eat happy, lounge about, sleep well, party on or do what you want, enjoy it.
Love x


Let’s Be Friends Said No One Ever

Have you ever received an email from some random person online who you have never met, never have spoken to and have absolutely no idea how on earth they got your email address? Whilst checking my emails over a lovely and much needed cup of tea this afternoon, Sonia from la la land emailed and told me all about herself. How lovely. I now have a new friend.


Who in their right mind is going to email this girl back? I mean REALLY? I also received this email to on my Facebook today… how the heck did Miss Mime whatever her name is get my FB email address?

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Just f*ck off will you.

Ha, found this from last year.. made me laugh and thought I should share it with you all. Ah, crazy times.

Love or Hate Them Like Marmite

There is always one. The one that doesn’t get nor understand that never actually means never. They think that it’s an equivalent to a near yes and somehow the ‘never’ and ‘NO’ will one day be more that just friends. It won’t happen. Ever. He’s the friend that you put up with because he’ll always be a friend to you. But he’ll always want more. He’ll even try and convince what you have is special and no one else can share this special bond that you both do, even though there is no bond.

This is my case. I’ve known him since he was yay high, that little nipper stage when he used to run round with my cousin and smoke weed in the local park, zoom round like a super uncool teenager on his moped (that looked like a motorbike but wasn’t- something to do with age) and try…

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