In a weird way, it’s a good thing you have anxiety so that you can recognize when it’s happening.
I’m paraphrasing above, but I had that conversation with a mental health professional about my child. I’ve been mulling over writing about this, because its part my story and part not my story. But the more I think about it, the more I want to normalize this.
I have anxiety. I have panic attacks. I’ve had bouts of depression. I didn’t fully understand all of this and what I’d been living with most of my life until my thirties. Imagine, living most of your life, in that state, and just accepting it, struggling, and not always understanding why your brain functioned the way it did. I lived in my own head a lot.
Then, I hit bottom. It was ugly. It wasn’t glamourous. It wasn’t fun. Then I sought help. My…
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