About the Worrier

My Story

This is the boring bit, is this the boring bit though? Surely if this bits boring the whole blog is. I mean you’re here to read about my experience with anxiety right? So surely you want to know a bit about me? Maybe not, is that big headed of me?

See I’ve already fucked up.

Better to turn around now, go and find a better blog about someone’s anxiety to read.

This is me. Laura. I’m in my twenties and recently my anxiety has gotten worse, like I’m talking a crap tonne worse. Like I can’t even read a book worse.

People say it helps to talk, but considering I get anxious about doing just that, I thought why not try having a blog. I can talk and talk, don’t have to worry about burdening anyone. The worst that can happen is someone sections me because of my rambly posts. The best that can happen is this helps. The even better scenario is it helps other people.

Anyway, so here I am, in my twenties with a good job, a good man, a good family and a pretty good life. I’ve no right to be deep in the pits of anxiety (and probably depression) and yet that’s exactly where I find myself.

My mental health has been a constant struggle since I was very young. The true lightbulb moment for me though was doing the topic of mental health in drama class at High School. From then I realised that perhaps things weren’t all normal.

I tried to get help, oh believe me I tried. From being fifteen, I tried to talk to doctors, who were mostly about as much help as a chocolate teapot. I saw a counselor who I ended up counselling. I saw a psychiatric doctor who had me keep a mood diary for a month and then told me that something was wrong but they didn’t know what. I gave up, I gave up trying to get help. I would cope on my own. Then finally¬†in 2014 I saw a psychiatric nurse because I felt like I was going crazy. I sat in a little room and explained everything. After that he told me that there couldn’t be an official diagnosis without being under surveillance for six months but, that I clearly had severe anxiety, mild OCD and mild depression.

Things clicked into place then, the reasoning behind irrational anger and irritation started to make sense. I actually felt better, I felt more in control. Like I could understand. I felt like once I left retail I’d be so much better. More stable. It was true to an extent, I got a nice office job and I wasn’t so angry, so filled with annoyance all the time, but I wasn’t any less anxious. (I say that I’m less angry but my reputation in the office says otherwise…)

And now I’m here, and coping like I used to isn’t working anymore. Now I need help, I need help to navigate through the fuzz in my brain. So the doctors have given me fluoxetine, and I’ll probably be waiting a hell of a long time for the free counselling I’m trying to get.

So I made this blog and through this blog I’m going to post as and when I feel like it, logging how my anxiety is affecting my life. Trying to convey what it feels like.

I’ll be sharing it on social media, in the hopes that people can better understand why I am the way I am. I am going to be unapologetic in the way I am though.

This wild ride we’re about to start will always be honest but I hope it will also be funny and that you’ll be able to laugh at some of the mindfuckery – and quite frankly – batshit crazyness that goes on in my head.