Lump in the Throat

It’s a guest I can’t kick out; politeness is of no use, desperation no better, ignored as I claw at my neck until it’s red raw.

Sometimes it crawls up my throat.

It feels like the scarab scene from The Mummy (1999), burrowing under my skin, crawling until it reaches my throat, and then it sits there.

It’s not as simple as a ‘lump in the throat’ because it consumes you; it crawls, it writhes, it chokes. It doesn’t sit there in annoyance but instead threatens to stop you from breathing, to make your hands go numb, and to make the sweat on your neck turn ice cold. But we will call it the lump. It deserves nothing more.

Sometimes it stays for a few minutes before you can swallow it down, but other times, it lingers for hours, days, even weeks. I’ve had a lump in my throat for so long that I presented at accident and emergency, wholeheartedly believing I was dying, sitting in the plastic chairs waiting for an ECG despite the fact I would’ve stopped breathing much earlier if I were actually suffocating.

Sometimes the trigger can be identified – starting a new medication, and I’m convinced I’ll get the worst side effects listed on the leaflet. Other times it feels like it creeps up from nowhere, a pit forming in my stomach as the ‘lump’ travels its way up my throat, settling there, making a nest, making itself at home despite being the most unwanted guest. It’s a guest I can’t kick out; politeness is of no use, desperation no better, ignored as I claw at my neck until it’s red raw.

Sometimes the anti-anxiety medication works, calming the ‘lump’, sending it back down to the pit of my stomach or to float somewhere else in my body. I still know it’s there somewhere rolling around, waiting to come back, an imposter who wants to return and torment the property owner. But at least it’s gone.

At last, the guest has finally been evicted.

Sometimes, despite the eviction, the bailiffs, and the fines, the lump comes back. I could cry because something has never been so uninvited, so unwanted. I despise you. You’re not welcome here, and you don’t belong. They say there’s a place for everyone, but that doesn’t include you.

Sometimes the ‘lump’ stirs up in my body at times in my life when I feel quite at ease. I can be feeling confident and comfortable – happy, even. Then the lump comes back, and with it comes a barrage of anxious thoughts, my worst fears cropping up in my dreams and daily realities for the first time in months.

I daydream about my dog dying, being hit by a car, my car exploding, my house roof caving in, my hair falling out, acid rain, and a murderer at my doorstep. Whilst they are only a select few, they all come at once as soon as the ‘lump’ appears. Irrational and uninvited.

Sometimes my coping skills and self-management techniques don’t work, failing to evict the stubborn ‘lump’. The problem is that they work together – the thoughts and the lump – tearing my life apart minute by minute until something has to give. The lump never gives in first. It likes to wait until I’ve given up a bit of something in my life. The lump always wins.

But sometimes, its win is only brief.

Sometimes, something clicks. It can take days, weeks, months, or nearly a year. But the stubborn ‘lump’ decides its time is up and it can move on, back down into the pit of my stomach – or better yet, leave my body entirely.

I say that ‘something clicks,’ but it’s not a brief moment of something clicking into place. It’s not something magical that comes from nowhere and leaves me with a resounding sense of relief. It’s something I claw at every day, chipping away, encouraging the ‘lump’ to allow me to breathe, directing it elsewhere so I can take a breath so deep it almost hurts my lungs.

The hard work goes unnoticed, by myself and others alike, unless declared. Clawing at the lump requires patience and perseverance at times when it feels like there’s nothing left to give, when you feel like your soul has battled with too many ‘lumps’ over the course of your life. It requires support and understanding from those who cannot see or feel the ‘lump’ but must be willing to believe you anyway.

When I’m fighting with the ‘lump’ – this whirlpool of anxiety that has the potential to suck the life out of me – I walk around in a daydream-like state, wondering how many other people have ‘lumps’ in their throat, how big they are, how long they stay, whether it’s something they’ve always battled with or whether it just appeared one day?

Everyone has had a ‘lump in their throat.’ But mine has found a home. A home that it will never be fully willing to leave.

Welcome back, old friend, it’s been several months without you interfering.

I can’t say it’s particularly nice to see you again.