Yesterday was the anniversary of my breakdown; yes, I'm officially recognising it as such.
Writing about it the day after I underplayed it, I said it felt like I was having a mini breakdown. Over time, I came to see it for what it actually was — my brain telling me "I can't do this anymore."
I said there were a few tears involved when there were actually a lot. I said I wasn't ashamed to admit it but maybe, at some level, I was and this is why I brushed it off.
Although things had been rumbling around for a while and I was back on my meds (that didn't appear to be working) it was that day last year which triggered everything that followed.
New meds, five months off work, and therapy later, I'm now in a much better place. Not perfect but better. I still struggle, and likely always will, but I'm proud to have come as far as I have.
There's still a way to go.
Even today, I had an anxiety attack in the supermarket — my whole body screaming at me to get out. I didn't have my earbuds with me so tried to focus on exactly what I was there to do. Ignore everyone, don't look at anyone or assume they're looking at me. Just focus on the shopping list and get out as quick as possible.
I'm trying to take the positives rather than focus on the negatives. It's hard — I manage most of the time. They are days, however, when I feel myself sliding.
I've learned to accept it and not chastise myself for feeling low. Not dwell in it as I would have in the past; accept that it will happen but I will come back up on the other side.
I'm winning more battles than I lose and that is all I can ask for.
