*I wrote this post over two months ago and have only built up the courage to post it now in
the light of the new campaign #ItsOkayToTalk. It’s not easy to talk about personal issues for me or for most people, but in being more open we are helping not only ourselves, but others who are afraid to speak out and ask for help.
#ItsOkayToTalk is a campaign set up by Luke Ambler that encourages men to talk openly and freely about their issues or problems. Luke has set up Andy’s Man Club in honour of his late brother-in-law Andy Roberts who took his own life in April of last year, to urge men to be more open. Suicide I urge you to check it out. All you have to do to get involved is post a picture of you doing the Okay sign and tweet it with the #ItsOkayToTalk.
Anxiety fucking sucks!
Just when I start to feel like I have my shit together, it serves a very fucking harsh reminder that I can never escape it.
Sometimes I just can’t breathe.
Sometimes I breakdown and need to cry.
Sometimes my brain is clouded by this thick fog and filled with a voice telling me I’m crazy.
Sometimes I just can’t be a functioning human.
My life isn’t hard, I haven’t faced any particular hardship, so why am I like this?
I don’t like to cry, I don’t like to let people see me cry, to me crying is a weakness, but there are days where I have no choice.
In the past year anxiety has hit my like a brick, right in the face, smashing out my teeth and breaking my nose.
I know I’m not alone in having anxiety, but as many sufferers will know it is an awfully lonely disease to have.
When I collapse, unravel, breakdown, I have to hit rock bottom before I can pick myself up again. It sucks.
Sometimes life becomes too much.
Sometimes it clutches my lungs so tight that I feel like I’m going to die from the lack of air.
Sometimes even after I have picked myself back up, that feeling in the pit of my stomach will last for days.
I have no solution to this, I can’t offer you advice, I don’t know how to live with this yet, for me it is getting worse.
Yes I’m an outgoing, happy woman with her shit together, but aren’t we all? Most of the time I am this person, until I’m not.
I know I’m not alone, but that doesn’t stop me feeling helpless sometimes.
I’m not looking for pity I just needed to write. Since I’ve started to write I am finding it easier to be open. I’m finding it easier not to be so hard on myself when I have a panic attack or a down day.
I would feel such shame that spelling mistake, a missing sock or the most minuscule thing would make me breakdown, that my anxiety would use that to take hold. That’s the thing with my anxiety; it’s never over something feasible. That’s why I feel shame, shame that I broke down ‘over nothing’.
I know all the things people tell me are true. “Nothing is wrong”, “You’re OK”, “You have lots to be happy about” I know this, so does my anxiety, but it wont let me process it. It doesn’t want me to feel OK, happy or like I have my shit together.
It’s a cruel cruel thing anxiety. It leads you into a false sense of security, then raises its ugly soul-destroying head and crushes everything that makes you, you.
Sometimes I cry.
Sometimes I’m not OK.
Sometimes anxiety wins.
We are all imperfect, but in a beautiful way. Anxiety is common, talking about it isn’t. As I have said before it isn’t easy for me to be this open about something so personal, but it is one way to bring more awareness and understanding to these issues. Yes I have anxiety most days, some are worse than others. That doesn’t mean I let it rule my life. No matter what I always pick myself up and get on with my life. That’s the best anyone can do.