Have you had enough of faking it, hanging it in there, keeping going, fooling everyone that when you say you’re fine, it’s actually true?

You’re exhausted by the subterfuge. Holding on by a thread, terrified that it’s going to break, right at the wrong moment. Like when your boss criticises your work, or your partner comes home late, leaving you with the chores?

Suddenly, you’re not holding it in anymore, you’re in tears, you’re screaming. You know your response is out of proportion to what happened. You know, really, why.

I know you know. Because I was there too. 

High functioning anxiety, I think they’d call it. Well, they called it complex PTSD and severe dissociative disorder.

Labels, schmabels. Hiding from fixing the cause of the anxiety, panic attacks, depression. Hiding the real me. Because I didn’t want to go back there to what had caused it. Not ever.

I mean, I had. I’d taken my medicine, gone to the counselling. They’d said that was all I could get. So I figured I’d get used to it, paper over the cracks, get on. And not be defined by it.

Except I was being defined by it, wasn’t I? By hiding, I wasn’t being me.

You want to be you. You miss her. You never really got to know her well enough. You wonder sometimes, what would that lost girl make of your life now?

I found myself again. And I can help you find yourself too.

The first and hardest step is to reach out.
I’ve got you from there.