Welcome to 'Anxietyland' theme park, where the rides are no fun
In the midst of a week-long panic attack, she is trying everything to get her nervous system to calm down. She tries long walks through her Northern California neighborhood, meditation apps, magnesium, and all the liquor in her home. Lying on the ground in the fetal position is her choice method. But nothing works.
Instead, she lies awake at night, gags at the sight of food, and since she can't get her eyes to focus, ignores work deadlines. One week turns into several. She is unravelling.
Her spiral takes her down a rickety wooden rollercoaster into "The Abyss" of exhaustion and she begins to give up. Sitting on the floor crying to her husband, she says she needs to go to the hospital. Her husband agrees.
This is where Correll's new graphic memoir Anxietyland
begins – but it's not where her relationship with anxiety begins. For that, she takes us back to her childhood and walks us through her life living in a terrible theme park called Anxietyland.
An image from Anxietyland.
Gemma Correll/Gallery Books
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Gemma Correll/Gallery Books
The theme park contains rides such as the Emotional Roller Coaster, the Worry-go-round and the House of No Fun. Yes, there are even clowns (so many clowns) in Anxietyland — and they are terrifyingly coming from a therapist's office. You want to tell her to run, run as fast as she can out of there.
Ever since she was a kid, Correll has had this ever-present feeling like a pit in her stomach that she calls "The Bad Feeling." Her drawn representation of the bad feeling is a sickly pink blob with sharp teeth, mean eyes and claws. It hovers over her and tells her nasty things to keep her afraid. When Correll is told she is over-sensitive, shy and even a freak, The Bad Feeling kicks her while she is down. She struggles to fit in, find friends, and feel safe. Her mind is often on the "Worry-go-round," and she is hyper vigilant about keeping her cat Oliver safe from countless perils.
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