Vulnerability & Stuff

I have thoughts – personal thoughts. Thoughts that I was just going to share with my BFFs, or even just keep to myself. But then I was thinking – I CANNOT be the only person thinking these things. And even if I am, I’m sure I’ll make you laugh AT me at least once (hint: second last paragraph). Here we go, vulnerability and stuff.

Mushy alert 🚨: I have so much love to give. SO MUCH LOVE! And all I want to do is give it. To everyone that I love; I want to hug them and give them presents and hang out with them and tell them how great they are. If you’re loved by me you certainly know it because I definitely communicate too much – but hey, I’ll never apologize for being me.✌🏻It just means I care. Then there’s that other sort of love where you share a huge bear hug with a special someone in the middle of the kitchen and you hold it for an extra long time, but it doesn’t feel extra long, it feels just right. That kind of love is really hard to come by, but at some point it’s what we all long for, isn’t it?

Though my life so far has been really great, I’ve also experienced many hardships. I didn’t realize the negative impact some of them have had on me until I looked back and realized they’re still with me. Enter: me struggling to let people in. There are walls upon walls upon obstacle courses standing in the way, and who the fuck wants to break down all these walls and THEN go through a goddamn obstacle course to get to someone they may or may not want to love.

And I’m dang sure that these walls come across as me seeming NOT interested when in actuality, I have a huge crush and it’s 100% what I want to explore, I’m just terrified. Sometimes [read: All the time] being terrified in these situations morphs itself into some pretty intense anxiety and then I avoid & leave these situations at all costs because that feeling sucks more than words can express.

This one time I puked on a date. I puked on a date and then ASKED HIM WHERE HE PARKED because I needed to get the fuck out of there. So my track record doesn’t rock, and yes, anxiety is no joke and will SERIOUSLY create some potentially hilarious, potentially mortifying stories to tell.

Well, as the universe will have it, I am the worst dater I’ve ever met. The first problem, is that I am my own worst enemy when it comes to reading people’s feelings about me. This is true for the beginning of any relationship, not just romantic ones. If we aren’t already BFF, poop-talk level friends, I’m definitely uncertain of your feelings toward me.

This translates into the next thought about how I CANNOT READ MEN! Fucking hell. If I have a crush on someone and they communicate with me… this is my brain: Is he just being nice? He’s a nice person so he must just be communicating with me because he’s nice. Oh god I’m such a talker, am I coming on too strong? Do people ACTUALLY wait to reply? That seems dumb, life is busy. Is HE trying to hold back to not seem eager? Or does he legit just not care? JUST BE YOURSELF AND STOP WORRYING! Lol you’re funny, worrying is what I’m best at. He DEFINITELY thinks I’m annoying, and DEFINITELY doesn’t have a crush on me.

I really do love who I am, but being vulnerable is hard (honestly I can’t believe I’m letting you read this at all). Accepting that someone might actually find whatever is “annoying” to be endearing is more than possible.

So if you have this kind of too-long-but-just-right-bear-hug love – you are SO lucky. I hope you cherish it and never take it for granted. And if you’re longing for it, know that you deserve it and all the kind words and actions directed toward you. When it comes down to it, as humans, all we want is to survive, to love and to be loved.

And there’s something so beautiful about the simplicity of it. So while I share these [horrifyingly embarrassing] thoughts to you, it’s a small step in the direction of letting people in. And a small step toward cutting the taboos society has engrained in me, and hopefully inspiring you to share your love, share your feelings, hug your person a little longer, or be confident that you’re SO deserving of love and YES, I am ALWAYS down for a hug.

And that is magic enough

Sometimes you wake up dreading

The fact that you’ll need to get out of bed soon

And you’ll need to go to work soon

Because you can’t stop the storm that’s coming. 

 

One big dark cloud sitting over your head, 

Raining, raining, pouring. 

With every thunder crack 

A new terrified feeling

 

CRACK!

And it’s loud and it hurts, 

CRACK!

And there’s no ignoring it, 

CRACK! 

And there’s no stopping it, 

CRACK!

And all you can do is take it 

CRACK!

 

Because it’s all in your head. 

And you still need to roll out of bed,

And you’ll be a bit late for work now, 

And there will be no explaining –

No one will understand.  

 

They say rainbows come after the rain

And aren’t they beautiful with their bright colours, 

Their shine, their magic. 

 

But sometimes we don’t need rainbows.

Sometimes we just need the storm to clear

So the birds can chirp again

And the trees can dance again

And the flowers can bloom again,

And that is magic enough.

 

Love Day

Being a female in this world is hard. Heck, being a human in this world is hard. I am so lucky to have a lot of incredible people in my life who I adore. I tell everyone about all the other amazing people in my life and how great they are, and I tell them how great THEY are! Yet I can never even come close to giving myself the same kind of love.

I don’t give myself enough credit, I don’t appreciate myself enough, I don’t look in the mirror and think positively about myself, I constantly doubt myself, I can’t help but to compare myself, and my default is assuming people think the worst of me. The realization that I would never dream of speaking to any of my friends the way I speak to myself, and that so many others feel the exact same way about themselves, is CRAZY!

It’s pretty sad that it’s so easy to find things about other people that we love, yet so hard to find things we love about ourselves. I think if we all talked to each other more, hugged more, supported each other more, smiled more, and just bluntly told each other the great things we think about one another, we’d all be a little bit closer to really, truly loving ourselves.

So today instead of being my very own bully, I’m trying to look in the mirror and find the things I DO like, or that have changed for the better, or that I’m proud of. I’m trying to appreciate myself and give myself the credit I deserve. I’m trying to leave a social situation and find the positive things that I know are true rather than dwelling on the potential that someone didn’t like me or thought I was annoying.

On this Love Day and every day, I’m trying to practice self love. So today, I’m posting a selfie. And I like that ringlet beside my right eye, so there’s something I like. I’ll hang onto that.

Happy Valentine’s Day, friends – love your people, but save some of that love for you too because you deserve it. 🖤

Today; A Day In The Life

Today was a good day until it wasn’t. I woke up tired this morning (I’ve been working a LOT lately) but aside from that I was great! Went to Barre, had a great class, grabbed a vanilla almond milk latte from my favourite coffee shop and caught up on a couple shows. Then I napped and my day shifted. I had an awful dream and woke up really anxious. Since anxiety plays such a big role in my daily life I didn’t realize just how anxious I was until I was getting ready to leave the house. I was moving slowly but figured it would pass since I was looking forward to hanging with some cool people and checking out a new local brewery in the process.

I lasted an hour and a half. I was restless the entire time, quiet as ever, and very uncomfortable. I had about 3 sips of beer while I was there and decided I had to call it. So I’m writing this from under a pile of blankets, in the comfort of my home, trying to calm my anxious mind.

I always want to fight my anxiety and prove it wrong, but I’ve learned that this isn’t always the best route to take. As much as I need to overcome a lot of things relating to anxiety, sometimes I need to listen to the messages my body is sending me. Right now I’m very overwhelmed in life and I’m aware of that. I have too much going on but I can’t do much about that at the moment – I also might be fighting what I call ACTUAL sickness. These can lead to anxious outbursts that seem to creep in for no obvious reason.

Since I usually react to anxiety by feeling sick in various ways, as a kid I used to call it “my sickness” which therapists immediately made me stop doing. Though as an 11 yr old kid who threw up multiple times every day and continuously felt nauseous, I can’t blame my young self for dubbing it a sickness of sorts. Even my 27 yr old self agrees – it will always be my sickness. But I also agree with the therapist in that I should be more positive about it. So in my life there’s anxiety sickness and actual sickness.

I really struggle with fighting my anxiety vs. listening to it. I think I did well this evening, staying for a while and then deciding the best thing to do was leave. It was a weird situation because usually when I’m anxious in a social gathering it’s due to a person there or a situation that happened there. But this evening it was just that I happened to be anxious in that space. This helped me not feel guilty about leaving – I knew I needed to get to a comfortable place physically so my mind could hopefully find that comfort as well. On the other hand whenever these things happen, even if there’s no reason to feel guilty, I do. And it never helps the situation. I considered staying a little longer and fighting it, but after the long week I had I knew I needed to leave. As soon as I sat in the car I noticed I was shaking and called my mom.

My mom and I are extremely close and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I know my anxiety has a lot to do with it as well. She’s the only person in my life who has been with me since the very beginning of my anxiety journey that began with not knowing what was wrong with me, to sitting beside me in the hospital through multiple tests, to getting diagnosed and finding me a therapist. I’m so thankful and happy that my mum has always been open minded and understanding towards mental health. I don’t know where I would be in this anxiety journey without her but it certainly wouldn’t be this far. (Happy British Mother’s Day Mum! Xo – we’re British, it counts).

So I called my mum. And I kind of talked, kind of cried, and listened to her tell me about the dogs and the new fast water boiling feature she found on her 2 yr old stove today. And then she expressed her frustration with my anxiety because after years of helping me with it to the best of her ability, she knows there isn’t anything she can do. And she hates that. Because she’s an amazing Mum.

I had a conversation about my frustrations with anxiety last week with one of my all-time best friends. She’s also asked me many, many times if there is anything she can do to help.

Today, a couple of people at the brewery that knew I didn’t just “not feel well” asked if they could do anything. One of them, someone who has become dear to my heart, was even offering to rub my back in case that would help to calm me down so I could stay. Another amazing human offered to be someone to talk to if I ever need it. And another was just the most understanding, calm, beacon of support and comfort from the moment she sat in my car and I told her what was going on.

These offers of love, support, and help make me speechless. My answer is always so thankful and appreciative, and I always have to say “No, there isn’t anything you can do to help, unfortunately.” But this kindness being thrown at me in shaky or smiling times are so appreciated. I’m sure I can speak for many anxiety warriors when I say that while I wish there was something you could do to help, knowing that you’re there and that you care enough to offer help means the absolute world. Just being there has me forever grateful for you.

Even I lose track of how often I feel anxious because the reality is that it is my normal. But you people who care – for me or anyone else in your life that has similar struggles – you’re the ones that get us through. You call us strong and you call us brave, and while I usually don’t feel this way, when I do it’s because of you. That strength, that courage – it’s from your hugs, your kind words, your empathy, your support.

So THANK YOU! Thank you for reminding me that it’s ok to admit that it is SO FUCKING HARD to live with anxiety. I always undermine it, and it’s probably a pride thing. But it feels good sometimes to let that wall down and admit that it’s a life that is often terrifying and involves constant worrying, physical sickness, panic attacks, and tons of doctor visits and question marks.

And thank you so much for reading this and understanding a little more about me and the world of anxiety. Thank you for the hugs, for the kind words, for reminding me that I’m strong, that I’m brave, that I’ll get through this each time. Thank you for offering to rub my back, to talk, for putting up with my texts asking if you’re mad at me (without any reason for doing so aside from my own worry), and for being so understanding. Just, thank you.

Just Can’t Shake It

I definitely always constantly find myself dwelling. I dwell, I worry, I freak out. I dwell. I dwell, then I worry. I worry then I dwell. I freak out. I worry and sometimes really and truly let it go. I worry and dwell and repeat. Are you annoyed yet? Because, SAME! This is my brain 24/7 and usually about the most ridiculous things.

For anyone who knows me even a little bit, or for anyone who actually reads these things, you know that I struggle daily with anxiety. Sometimes I think I should be an actor because I can be really good at hiding my crumbling emotions when I need to. And then again, people who I never thought would, have seen me cry or run to the bathroom to throw up. So there’s that.

Lately though, there’s been one thing that’s been eating away at me and I can’t let it go. In every moment my brain is not otherwise distracted, it’s right there in the forefront of my thoughts. Here it is, folks: I cannot let people in.

Growing up, I always thought I was an open, trusting person. However, upon reaching something some may call adulthood, I’ve realized that I am quite the opposite. I’ll tell you about my life, my friends, funny and embarrassing things that happen to me, and even what it’s like to live with anxiety. But I’ll never dig very deep. I have a lot of friends and I really do love them all in different unique ways. My brother always says “you have too many friends” and it makes me think about how I’m so thankful to have the personality that I do. I absolutely love speaking to strangers, even though I was taught not to, and I love making connections with people.

On the surface I seem confident and inviting, but on the inside there is a huge wall up, and behind that wall there’s a maze (similar to the last challenge in the Triwizard tournament) and then there’s a bank vault that takes a certain kind of key to unlock and voila, I’m hanging out inside deciding whether or not I can let you in. But it takes two. You have to have the right key and I have to want you to come hang out with me in my vault. This is super rare though because I get my yoga on, nap, read, and bake a lot in there so I’m not always paying attention to the outside world. I don’t even mean digging deep all the time – this blockade is present even if I’m going to grab coffee with someone. Have I said “Yeah that would be awesome!” to plans with people, or bailed at the last minute due to insane anxiety? Yup. And it stinks because I’m genuine and then I start to worry that people I care about might think I’m less genuine than they thought.

Tonight in the shower, despite loving the hot water and having an amazing playlist going, I was worrying and dwelling about not being able to truly let people in. I always find the positive in a situation, but this is just also a daily, hourly occurrence for me and many, many others. Though it is extremely hard to live with and manage, it’s not always this horrible monster. It just is what it is. And it is a part of me.

So basically, I’m really, really bad at letting people in. But I want to be good at it. Or at least able to do it. And sometimes writing helps, so here we are.

I’m so excited to have been accepted to an anxiety research program that involves group therapy. I’ve said for so long that I think I would really benefit from group therapy – if anyone wants to talk anxiety any time, holler at your girl!! As common as it seems to be these days, it’s rare to find someone who deals with it and talks about it.

My Strings

My strings are moved by

The beauty of this universe –

The blowing wind,

The flowers that bloom,

The stars shining bright,

The ocean fiercely waving.

Only the shooting stars

Know what I truly long for.

You do not know my middle name

Yet you seem to know my story.

The wind, the flowers, the stars, the ocean –

They will not stop blowing, blooming, shining, waving

Just because you asked.

You cannot choose my name

My heart, my clothes,

My self.

I am not your marionette.

By: Emilie Cree

#metoo

Me too. You as well, right? And no one is surprised.

Correction: no victims are surprised.

And it’s disgusting. It’s awful. So sad, and so disheartening. Yet so real.

So. Real.

As a 27 year old woman, I lock my car doors as soon as I’m safely inside the car. When I’m walking down the street, I never listen to music because I want to be able to hear my surroundings. I never shy away from eye contact with strangers, no matter how untrustworthy they seem, so that they think I’m fearless. I’ve called friends or family members as I’m walking somewhere at night countless times to calm my fears. I feel more comfortable walking beside a man at night. I never look around if I’m not sure where I’m going, instead I take small glances at signs or look it up on my phone so that I avoid looking vulnerable to someone who knows the area better than me. I speed walk past alley ways, and choose longer routes on busier streets rather than dark short cuts.

This is the every day norm for me. Every woman I’ve ever discussed this with agrees. It’s sad when you have a conversation with a friend and connect a little more because you’re comparing ways you both steer clear of potential sexual abusers.

The even worse part is that it’s not in our heads. We live like this, in perpetual fear, because it’s happened to us, to our friends, and our family.

In university I was walking down the street to my friend’s house after class when a man stepped out on the side walk in front of me and flashed me. It was a busy enough street that I couldn’t quickly step into the road, and there was no where else to go. I was trapped. There were another couple men near enough to him that they seemed like they were together and there was no way I could physically fight 3 grown men. I was terrified. I was disgusted. I was so worried they would reach out and grab me, pulling me off the sidewalk. I ended up speed walking into the middle of the street to get away and basically jogged down the hill, perpetually looking back to make sure I wasn’t being followed.

I’ve had cars slowly drive beside me as I’m walking somewhere. Men inside will usually stay hidden and say awful things through the open crack of their window.

Being catcalled is so common I almost didn’t mention it.

Being groped in bars, changing my outfit twelve times before feeling good about it, and then having one of these situations happen causing me to wish beyond anything that I was in baggy sweatpants and looked like crap. Because then maybe I could walk down the street invisibly.

I could list situations and every day habits like these for another novel-length blog post. But you get the point. It’s relentless, all too common, and too okay.

I consider myself a feminist, and I’m proud of it. Every human is deserving of equality, safety, and love. There has been a lot of media covering the #metoo stories, issues, and awareness. It’s been a phenomenal break of societal norms and I couldn’t be more supportive.

However, one of my worst situations of being sexually assaulted was by a woman. Sexual misconduct doesn’t always happen from man to woman. I worked in a shared office building on a floor where different small companies would rent their office space. There was a woman who took a liking to me in what I thought was a work-appropriate way. Conversations in the kitchen during coffee refills, hellos and how are yous in the halls.

She started to come to my office and would end up sitting there talking for long periods of time. Too long. She never picked up on hints to leave, no matter how blunt I had to be. It got to a point where my bosses were making comments and I made it clear to them that she was an uninvited guest and to please come into my office with a pretend problem whenever you heard her near. I began closing my office door, but she would walk right in. Whenever she saw me speaking to someone else in a hall or at their desk, she would come and put her arm around me and pull me in close. I pulled away each time, had very closed off body language and even completely ignored her a couple times since I was in the middle of important conversations with other people. I also thought that maybe if I didn’t give her attention she would let me be.

I started to avoid the hallway her office was in, even though that meant I had to walk all the way around the floor in order to get to the kitchen. Whenever I was speaking with someone near her office, I would walk away as soon as I heard or saw her coming.

One day I went to the front to meet a client to have him sign some documents. My bosses were out for a meeting so I used one of their offices, which was bigger, and also closer to reception – and around the corner from her office. As I was shaking my client’s hand and saying hello, I felt someone grab my bum and squeeze. I immediately turned around to see the same woman pulling her arm back and grinning at me. I was in shock and disbelief, but in that moment I needed to focus on my client. I was completely embarrassed but I wasn’t sure if my client saw what had happened. I finished my client meeting and immediately felt like I wanted to cry. I felt so gross, and was in a very depressed mood. It was lunch time and I had no appetite. I couldn’t focus on work, so I went into my boss’s office and briefly explained what had happened. I told them I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t know how I felt, but I needed to do something because I did know that this wasn’t ok.

All I wanted was for this woman to never talk to me again and to leave me alone. The situation was explained to her boss, and they were both told to leave me alone. This request was not granted, and the woman appeared in my office, closing the door behind her, the very next day. She started yelling at me because her boss made her feel like “a gross pedophile”. I let her vent, since I was completely trapped, and then told her that I have no control over what her boss tells her but she made me feel extremely uncomfortable and her actions were not wanted nor were they appreciated. She then tried to make me feel guilty about getting her in trouble.

She left my office at last and I felt defeated. I wondered if I had been too nice to her originally, and that made her think she could act this way. I know I don’t dress in revealing ways, and I never have. So why does this woman, and why do all of these men make me into a sexual object that they’re allowed to touch, or talk to in inappropriate ways?

That’s what I still don’t understand.

This is a small part of my story and hopefully it’ll help you free yourself from your guilt, and your uncertainty about your story too.

We all think “Is this enough to be considered sexual misconduct”? Well, did you feel scared, or disheartened? Did you feel lessened, or uncomfortable? Unless you wanted it, it’s enough. And it’s too much.

Patience is hard

PATIENCE IS HARD!!

Allow me to backtrack. 

Life is hard. Adulting is hard. Social media gets tons of negative attention because it’s all so unrealistically positive. I do think it’s silly to portray life as something so perpetually happy when in reality it’s not. But at the same time, it’s nice to see people happy!But we also can’t assume that everyone isn’t going through something personal that they’re not sharing. We all have our shit! I like seeing friends post pictures of them smiling and doing fun things. It’s nice to celebrate the positivity in life, and I think it’s something we should all make a point of doing. Posting positivity on social media (including a ton of animals & food) is certainly something I do. But anyone who knows me, knows that I’m real. I won’t compliment you if I don’t mean it, and I won’t do anything that I don’t agree with or that makes me uncomfortable. I’m real and genuine 24/7 and I’ll never live life another way.

That being said, here I am complaining that being patient is hard. 

I’m 26, soon to be 27 (in November), and MY LIFE IS NOT TOGETHER! I constantly joke about it, but it’s genuinely how I feel. I think about 80% of the time I think I’ll be a crazy cat lady except with tons of different animals, and that I’ll never own a house, I’ll never figure out exactly what I want career-wise, and I’ll never conquer certain fears. So to deal with this sad fate, I joke. Because no matter what, though it may be easier said than done, smiling and laughing is key in life. A valuable lesson I’ve learned in my 26.5 yrs.

I also feel perpetually poor. I work one job Monday to Friday, 9-5, and I now work a second part-time job on evenings and weekends. And let me tell you, it is fucking exhausting. 

I live on my own because I’ve always been independent, but also because when I moved into my own place my roommates at the time moved out of Hamilton. I didn’t know anyone that needed a roommate and I didn’t particularly want to live with a stranger (roommate horror stories aren’t exactly the ones I want to tell). So that leaves me paying for rent & utilities on my own. I have amazing housemates and therefore split internet with one of the apartments below me, but then there’s my car payments, car & house insurance, laundry fees, phone bill, groceries, that gosh darn student debt, & gas. Never mind having a social life. Prices only go up, and goodness gracious life is expensive. My parents are both self employed (so proud of them for it) with no pension, and mom lives 2.5 hours north, while dad lives 2.5 provinces East, so I can’t exactly crash their houses for a meal, or temporarily move in to save money. 

It can be pretty overwhelming at times, it I feel like I can’t POSSIBLY be the only person feeling this way – but no one talks about it. It’s like, being poor is socially acceptable because without mentioning it we all know that life costs suck, but then everyone goes to fun events and out for meals, proceeds to post it on social media, and that’s what we see them do. We see them wearing a gorgeous new dress at this year’s coolest music festival. But what we don’t see is that she worked over time for months so that she could pay for those tickets, and her dress was $5 at the local second hand store. 

Though I’m supposedly an adult, the advice I keep getting from REAL adults is to stay strong, persevere, suck it up, and this stage in life will pass before I know it. 

I feel like I’m not the only “adult” that KNOWS these things. What sucks, and what is truly the hardest part isn’t the million work hours or the not sleeping properly and guzzling coffee the next morning, but finding patience. And gosh darn it, being patient is hard. 

This difficult, crazy, weird time is exactly what it means to work for what you have. I was lucky to grow up in a very wealthy town and in a middle class family. I can appreciate wealth, I can dream about having no debt and taking friends out for dinner and covering the bill no problem, but what I have right now that can never be taken away from me is wealth in working, in knowing that nothing comes easily but that once you achieve something you appreciate it so much when you’ve worked so hard for it. 

On the surface I seem like a stereotypical Oakville kid – wealthy, put together, confident, outgoing, traveled, lulu lemon & latte lover. But really, I drive a car that I rent and struggle to afford, I luckily didn’t inherit my mother’s resting bitch face (love you, Ma!), and for every flight I’ve stepped onto, I’ve worked my ass off to get it there. And I’m proud of it all and wouldn’t have it any other way. 

To you, reading this as a fellow twenty-something year old, or as someone who is going through the work-your-ass-off phase, I FEEL YOU! And so do so many other people, no matter what you might think based on their social media accounts or how they seem. Inner demons are cruel and we all have them, but understanding that we all have them is what’s key.

How will we ever be able to build each other up if we constantly make assumptions based on little snippets of a life we aren’t living.

And this thought brings me back to the fact that we are all patiently struggling with something. We may all be at different stages of our struggle, and we may not be able to completely relate with someone else’s specific situation, but we are ALL just trying to be patient and get through. 

It’s been a really rough year for me, to put it plainly, and tonight I sat on my couch with someone else’s cat, streamed reality tv, and a glass of white, and I couldn’t help but be so thankful for the people I have around me who are always there for a hug (please hug me anytime – my favourite!), a drink, a slumber party, or popping up in snail mail when I least expect it. So go make a pen pal out of someone you love, give your people some hugs, and keep joking and smiling. Together we’ll get through, because patience is HARD!! 

When life gives you Monday…

Today did NOT go like this. There was no sparkling to be had, no glitter left lying around.

Anxiety comes and goes in waves. Sometimes they’re just creeping up on the sand enough to touch your feet, making sure you know the ocean of fear is still right there. Other times it’s a bigger wave that catches you at the knee and pushes you over. And sometime it’s a massive wave, one that pulls you under tumbling around, unsure which way is up.

Today is a massive wave.

Even when I’m feeling so anxious that I can’t talk on the phone, I still resist taking calming medication, and I resist changing anything for or because of the anxiety. This isn’t always healthy though, and today I had to push my competitive instincts and pride aside to not only take that extra help from medication but also to call in sick to work.

I had a really great day on Saturday with some people I am so thankful to call best friends, and some others that I’m really excited and happy to call new friends. If anyone had met me for the first time on Saturday, they would have no idea anything else is going on inside that brain of mine, aside from a normal, fun, 26 year old’s thoughts.

But then Sunday rolled around and I was hungover in the morning. Whenever I’m sick, hungover, injured – anything that makes my body vulnerable – anxiety creeps in. As if vulnerability is a crack in the ceiling, allowing water to seep in, allowing waves to form and knock me over.

On Sunday I couldn’t talk to anyone. My own mother called me and I rejected the call, texting her instead to say “I’m ok but I’m super anxious, I’ll probably call you back tomorrow.” – luckily I have an amazing mother who completely understands. Or at least really tries to.

One of the hardest things is that “completely understanding” would mean having the same diagnosis with similar triggers and reacting in the same ways. Unfortunately to find someone like this is near impossible. I understand it’s a foreign world to many, but I’m always so appreciative when people try. Ask me questions, try to understand my thought process, lack thereof, or intense fear and worry.

Today though. Today is Monday. When I went to bed anxious last night I decided that tomorrow would be a new day and I would be productive at work. Well, I ended up going to babysit before work, forced some cereal down my throat and realized that I am 100% not okay. When my favourite little kid can’t make me laugh, I know I’m not okay. I dropped him off for a day of fun with friends and he gave me such a long, warm, loving hug which made me truly smile for the first time all morning.

Anyone who knows me well knows that one of my favourite things on this planet is hugs. You can say so much in a hug. Language doesn’t matter. You just close your eyes and connect with another person in an intimate, vulnerable way. You can tell a lot about a person from their hug, and you can create a lot of smiles giving them. My little friend who still counts his age in single digits knows this without me telling him anything, and boy oh boy his hugs are the best!

I decided I wasn’t in a state of mind where I could accomplish anything at work today, never mind answering a phone, or even driving there, so I emailed my bosses and told them I wasn’t going to make it in. But what do you say? I’m not physically sick, I don’t have anything that I can get a doctor’s note for – in fact going to a doctor may trigger everything further. It’s my first time ever staying home from work solely due to anxiety but I’ve certainly left work because of it, countless times. I’m starting to get better at knowing when to push my pride aside and giving in to not being mentally okay every single day.

It’s hard not to hate Generalized Anxiety Disorder with every part of my being, and in other posts I’ve mentioned some great positives that I’m fortunate enough to have received, learned, or realized due to my diagnosis and struggles. However today I write honestly in my present (frustrated) feelings.

It’s exhausting being anxious all the time – physically exhausting because your emotions and sometimes your physical body have gone into overdrive. I imagine most people with anxiety are the same in the sense that even though I might go to bed smiling tonight, it doesn’t mean I’ll wake up smiling tomorrow. I will likely be anxious again tomorrow but the waves will be smaller than today. Each day this will progress until they’re just touching my toes. And that’s where it will stay until the next wave breaks.

Today a wave knocked me down and pulled me under. I couldn’t just get up, and swim away – I was caught underneath, spinning around, helpless. I needed helping hands, understanding hands, loving hands, to help pull me out of the water. And for all those hands, I am absolutely grateful.