Anxiety and me

I write this because I’ve just written a really honest letter to my doctor explaining how I don’t feel able to attend my appointment next week because of my anxiety.

It’s an appointment that I’ve avoided for 2 years and I’ve found every excuse in the book to do so, instead of just telling the truth.

But why? he’s a doctor, surly he’s going to understand.

Yet I’m terrified he just won’t get it, that he won’t understand that everything in my body is saying no, even though I want to say yes, or he won’t see it as a valid enough “excuse.”

And it’s not just him, I lie to everyone about my anxiety. I lie about why I can’t go, I lie about how excited I am and I lie about being okay. I just hate the thought of people thinking I’m a flake, that I just can’t be bothered, or that that I’m miserable.

I mean, It’s taken me so long to understand my anxiety myself, how can anyone else?

………………..

I think I first started experiencing anxiety about 6 years ago, and I’m still not really sure how or why it started.

I just remember starting to feel incredibly vulnerable.

I felt like I had no control over anything in my life, I was having to trust others to help me in everything, but that was something I was loosing too.

The less I felt I had a grasp on things the bigger and scarier everything around me felt.

And if my general anxiety wasn’t bad enough a almost incident whilst in the car gave me travel anxiety. Something that unlike my everyday anxiety is proving a lot harder to get a handle on.

Because in having a structure, and a plan, or a knowing, I can feel better.

But not always.

And I can go days, weeks, feeling fine.

To then wake up with this feeling, this pit, deep in the middle of my stomach that feels suffocating; and I fight it, with every part of my being I fight it.

And sometimes I win.

Sometimes I make it, but I’m still fighting, and as much as I try I can’t be present.

Then sometimes I fail.

It’s to much, it’s to hard, to exhausting to battle and to pretend, yet I still am when I lie and say it’s because I’m tired or not feeling well.

So from here on out I’m going to be honest.

If anxiety is fucking with me I’m just going to say that, and if people aren’t open to understanding, or try understand, then that’s on them.

Because I’m not ashamed of my anxiety, and I can share if it’s just a bad day for me, so why not with the people I love and that love me.

And hopefully it’ll take away some of those feelings that come with anxiety. Feelings that you’ll be rejected, of guilt or shame.

Loneliness, because it can do that to you, but maybe inviting others in, I’ll realise it’s not a battle I have to fight alone.

Love, C x

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