Losing my stuffing....

For a long time it felt as though the light at the end of the tunnel had gone out, I felt like a failure and I was constantly worrying about everything and anything. Desperately I tried to cling onto some strand of reality as I felt it all slip through my fingers, outwardly I put on a brave face but inside I was drowning. For a while I felt like I was surviving, treading water just hard enough to keep my head above water, smiling just enough to convince people I was doing ok, until one day I wasn't surviving anymore. I had a huge panic attack in the middle of St Pancras station, I honesty felt like I couldn't breathe, like I was about to die and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it, it was in this moment that I realised I had to see a doctor, that I couldn't continue just surviving, that I wanted to be the old Gemma again.

Unfortunately the realisation that I needed to see a doctor fell in the middle of the festive period so I had to wait until last week before I could get an appointment. I struggled through Christmas, putting on a brave face and trying as best I could to enjoy myself, I'm sure many people realised that things weren't right but I carried on regardless. The doctors appointment was a revelation, I couldn't have asked for a nicer more understanding doctor. She listened and agreed that I was right to have seen her, after filling in some questionnaires and explaining all my endless symptoms she gave me a prescription for some anti anxiety tablets which I am hoping will start to help soon, alongside the tablets I am also going to be attending counselling sessions to try and get to the bottom of why the anxiety attacks have started again so suddenly.

So that is where I am now, waiting for the tablets to kick in and desperately hoping that the light at the end of the tunnel comes back.