And back I go…

Back I go. 

Sat in a waiting room. Paperwork filled in. Assessment complete. 

Waiting to see a complete stranger who will soon know more about me than most people who think they know me. 

Who will probably ask me questions that will make me cry. 

Who will listen whilst I pour out the jumbled, angry, confused, broken thoughts inside my head out into a space where I feel sort of safe. 

I never feel truly safe, I think that’s mostly the problem. 

I will speak and they will listen, then they will speak and I will listen, then I’ll go home and spend days processing what’s come out of my head, and what’s been said to me. 

Rinse and repeat. 50 minutes, once a week, for the next ten weeks. 

I’ll start to rebuild and feel stronger again. The wall of self defence and capability that I’ve carefully built has got some serious cracks and holes in it. I need to learn to not just plaster those over and hope they’ll hold up. 

I need to learn to break down the bits of wall that actually don’t protect me, and rebuild the bits of the wall that will be useful and give me strength. 

I need to find myself again. 

I’ve got lost again, but it’s ok, I know the drill, I know myself better now. I know I cannot hide or pretend. This is anxiety. That old devil has crept back but it’s  not going to ride me til I break this time. I saw it coming, I may have given it a bit of a head start to push me down the path, but this time I see it and I’m not letting it wear me down. 

Life has thrown some things at me that have made me realise that whilst I am doing a lot better, that I am not the silently screaming mess that I was before, I am still fragile, I only have so much to give before I can give no more. Life has shown me that there’s more to work on. The safety net I thought I had is actually further away than I want or need it to be and I need to pull it back. 

Anxiety for me feels like living on a knife edge of “what if” all the time. Never fully feeling safe or being able to breathe deeply and relaxing. It comes and goes. I can have months and years of being ok and then be slammed back into a place where I feel like I’m shouting but no one can hear. Winter hits me harder. Life changes hit me harder. Other people’s expectations and demands hit me harder. Finally I see that in order to be, I need help. 

This has been creeping up on me for a while and I’m taking steps to help myself. What probably quietly needed attention months ago is now glaring at me in the face thanks to things I can’t control. 

I’m going back to therapy. I’m not ashamed. I’m treating a part of me that isn’t as well as it should be. Just like someone would see help for a muscle injury, I’m seeking help for the bit of my mind that is hurting a lot right now and needs some attention. 

I am not broken and one day, I’ll look back on this and be able to say that I’ve walked a road and not let it beat me.