1 in 4.

So here I am laying it all out on the table. It’s not unknown that I’ve suffered under the hands of mental illness in the past – I lost the very man that made me because of it, however, over the last few months I’ve found myself not ‘okay’ in my thoughts.

Living with anxiety is a daily battle of feeling like you’re choking, that everyone’s looking at you, judging you and you feel alone, always. I’ve tried looking around and piecing together all the things that could make me feel this way but just like everything else, there’s nothing. I feel nothing and numb – with life.

It’s like every little good thing you’ve done, everything you should be proud of, every little spurt of goodness you have inside of you means nothing and you feel like the dregs at the bottom of the barrell. You feel useless, unproductive and that you’ll never be good enough for the world around you.

If anything, you feel scared all the time. You feel like everyone’s watching you. You feel like the walls are closing in and there’s no way out of your thoughts. You feel like you’re stuck in a lift with a thousand voices screaming at you, telling you you’ll never quite make the fit and that you should just give up now and run back into the hole you’ve attempted to get out of.

After all that, you feel tired. Tired of feeling nothing, doing nothing and being nothing. Tired of feeling not ‘okay’, tired of the walls closing in and tired of never feeling good about yourself. You get tired of not being able to form friendships with people because your brain is going like the clappers, tired of having to make out that you’re having a good time when all you want to do is sit and scream and be okay again.

For me, feeling like this scares the living hell out of me. Being faced with the same old demons that my dad once faced terrifies me. Life terrifies me. Not achieving what I want to do terrifies me. Most of all, my brain terrifies me.

I hate having to cry myself out of the bed in the morning because I can’t bear the thought of being alone on the train. I hate having to pretend that I’m ‘oh happy bubbly’ Sammy all the time. I hate feeling like all my goals and dreams are out of reach but most of all, I hate knowing that my Dad went through the very same feeling that I have. That terrifies me.

I’m 1 in 4 but I’ll be okay.





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