G'day everybody, my name is Elliot Waters, and you're listening to The Dysregulated Podcast. As always, thank you for tuning in.

Now, I know what you're thinking—it's been a little while since the last episode, and usually that means things have been tough. And you'd be absolutely right. Anxiety has absolutely derailed the last two weeks of my life, and this time, it hit harder than usual.

Before I dive in, if my voice cracks or wavers a bit during this episode, it’s because last night I was giving it everything at McDonald Jones Stadium, watching the mighty Newcastle Knights defeat the Dolphins. A great win, and yes, your boy was yelling plenty at the ref—as always, someone’s got to keep them honest!

But back to the serious stuff. If you’ve been listening to this podcast for a while, you’ll know that anxiety is the backbone of my mental health struggles. Generalized Anxiety Disorder sits beneath it all. BPD, depression, OCD—I have strategies for managing those. But anxiety? It just keeps finding ways to dominate.

The past month, my anxiety has been steadily rising. Slowly creeping up until I hit a breaking point. Usually, I can operate within a tolerable range—let’s say 70 out of 100 on the anxiety scale. It sucks, but it’s manageable. I stop answering emails, I withdraw, I avoid commitments—but I survive.

But when it goes past that threshold—like it did recently, climbing into the 90s and then the 100s—it becomes unmanageable. That’s when I get petrified. I’m no longer just anxious about the world—I’m anxious about my anxiety. It feels like it’s running the show, and I’m just along for the ride.

This week, it got bad. Three full days stuck in bed. Sweats. Overwhelming fear. Barely able to move. Classic symptoms of a full-blown shutdown. And that terrifies me. Because I’ve got important things coming up: work, presentations, meetings. I couldn’t do any of it.

On top of that, the physical symptoms were through the roof—shaky, nauseous, sweaty. It felt like a panic attack that never ended. My parents were worried. We started talking about emergency options—going back to the Mater Hospital, calling the Mental Health Line, even looking at residential rehab.

That’s how serious it got.

And yet, somehow, I pulled myself out of it. Credit where it’s due. I joined my parents for breakfast—couldn’t eat, barely drank half a juice—but I showed up. Then we walked along Newcastle Beach. The sun was out. That helped, a bit.

Then came the moment I’m most proud of: I went for a run. I’ve barely run in months. The day before, I tried and failed miserably. But this time, I smashed it. It didn’t fix everything, but it stopped the spiral. It put a lid on the anxiety.

After the run, I got a haircut—something I’d put off for weeks. And I went to the Knights game. That series of small victories helped me reclaim some control. And while I’m still anxious, it’s back within range.

Even at the barber’s, I was sweating buckets. Social anxiety through the roof. The barber had to use a cold hairdryer to keep me cool. It helped, more than he probably realized. That’s the kind of behind-the-scenes battle many of us face every day.

And now here I am. Talking to you. Reflecting. Processing.

I still don’t know what triggered this massive episode. And I’m not sure what exactly helped me climb out of it. Maybe it was momentum. Maybe it was sunlight. Maybe it was movement. Or maybe it was sheer willpower.

But I’m learning that sometimes, you just have to ride it out. Take the next right step. And trust that better days are coming—even if your brain is telling you otherwise.

Thank you for listening. If you’re enjoying the show, please give it a great rating on your podcast platform of choice—it helps the algorithm and helps others find the show.

You can follow me on Instagram at @elliott.t.waters. I read every message, even if it takes me a little while to respond.

Until next time—look after yourselves, take that next right step, and go the Knights!