Since then I have, metaphorically speaking, slithered upon my belly in the mud. Clawed my way up mountains and fallen back down into the smallest claustrophobic potholes. I have dwelt in a dark tower and am presently clinging to the sheerest mountain face you can imagine. Amongst the deep depression and anxiety there have been events that have caused me to surface. Lately I have found out that it’s true what they say that whatever affects you mentally affects you physically.
Before “things” went wrong I used to think I was strong. I wasn’t, I was numb and in denial. I didn’t recognise it and I could not let out my feelings, being afraid of my feelings and what they might do. My “strength” was total pretence. I had I thought self-esteem that I had built myself, I thought I was a grown up. I couldn’t understand one of my colleagues who was either boasting or seeking reassurance. I do now. I wasn’t a grown up I was a child. I still am at aged 64. I didn’t know why I couldn’t be stronger …..