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151: Breathe Me

This readers, is a moment of truth post. I'm writing it because this morning, when I spoke to my friend and expressed how I felt so empowered to share this at times, she told me how grateful she'd be to read it, much like others probably would. 


So, here goes.

I woke up today not feeling myself; it happens a bit, maybe once or twice every few weeks. Sometimes that feeling sticks around for a few hours, the entire day, or all week. There's rarely a warning and there's rarely much I can do about it. When I say "not feeling myself" I mean off-my-usual-game, I mean on-edge, I mean "anxious". 

Anxiety seems to be a more common day problem; our lives are stuffed to bursting and sometimes it gets too much. Anxiety also seems to be something some people can't really grasp; they don't really get how it can take over someone's inner dialogue and actually make simple tasks, really difficult. Because that's how it is for me. Sure, I can do a nice time lapse for my Instagram; but more often than not, I've done that to distract and pull my dialogue away from the thing I woke worried about. 

It's all consuming. It's scary. It's hidden. You wouldn't meet me for coffee and know that whilst I'm listening to you talk about your week, I'm having another conversation in the inner recesses of my mind about the list of worries. I put a pretty good game face on because it's normal for me now. Sometimes I can leave the coffee house and feel a bit lighter for friendly chat, other times I can leave feeling my chest grow tighter as the expanse of the day stretches ahead of me.

I feel fortunate to have a good group of friends who get it, who experience the same feelings, and who are there for me - and likewise. I'm sure when they first met me, they didn't think I had days like these, and I thought the same of them. But we do; it's normal, it's life. 

There's a fair few people close to me that don't know I feel like this - until now of course - and it may surprise them. I hold it together pretty well when some days I really do just want to cry in their face. 

I manage better than I used to but that's the crux; I manage. I don't feel like this can ever be rid of. I'm sat with Mini B having bath time, plagued with it; she's got a temperature, not herself, and my anxiety is around her being poorly and then me being poorly and so on and so forth. Everyday tasks are hard. 

Why am I telling you this? Because there are loads of us that feel this way and don't say anything, when actually, as scary as it is to speak up for fear of weakness (which I've battled with too), it (hopefully) sparks confidence and mutual comfort. 

Here's to finding strength in numbers, here's to managing and surviving, and here's to all the love. 

And to my friend from this morning - you know who you are - thank you.

Be good and bake well, 

Lady Bakewell-Park

 

 

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