14 Tasha
I’ve been up all night worrying. I knew I would be. The warning signs are all there from before: the breathlessness, the constant dark thoughts, the unshakeable desire to hide away from it all.
There’s nothing I can do. Nothing. It’s self-perpetuating. My cognitive behavioural therapist reckoned it was to do with a perceived lack of control. He taught me to try to accept that some things are out of my control. And I can, to an extent. I no longer get anxious in traffic jams and I don’t flip out so much when my computer crashes. But there’s no way I can just let this go. Not knowing where Ellie is, whether she’s safe. Knowing that I could have been in control. I could have not gone to that conference. I could have stayed at home and been there.
The last time I felt so completely
