I’d say I had my first real taste of Anxiety in the first month of being ill. I had managed to painstakingly slowly cross the road in our little village in an attempt to get some fresh air and stretch my legs a little bit. But then I had this overwhelming feeling that I couldn’t get back across the road safely. I couldn’t trust my legs or my body to do that anymore. They weren’t the legs that had captained every sports team at school. They weren’t the legs that had (begrudgingly) climbed mountains on family holidays. They weren’t the legs that were first up on any dance floor. My journey with Anxiety has gone from there.
There is so much to say about it but finding the words is hard. I will try again another day.
There is too much time to think and there is now so much more to think about. On top of the standard worries that I have too much time to think about and worry over, I also have the bits of life that M.E. impacts to think about. And again, too much time to sit thinking about them.
With a condition like M.E, the sufferer has very little control; over their symptoms, the relief from those symptom. Very little control over aspects of their life that they have be able to independently tackle their whole young adult life.
For me, I have to acknowledge and engage with these worries for them to even start to go away. I feel an instant relief once I’ve voiced certain worries with certain people.
I don’t always want to be told that I need to work on my thought patterns. I know that and I am trying harder than you’ll ever know. I don’t need or want suggestions that might help.
Sometimes I just want to hear that you’re sorry it’s so hard. Because it really is.