I can remember the first day I needed to ask for help. I remember how scared and frightened I was when I went in to see my doctor.
But I remember the relief when, finally, I found out what was “wrong” with me. Living with generalized anxiety disorder (GAD), major depressive disorder, persistent depressive disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is like living under rain clouds and walking through a dark forest; not being able to see what’s in front of you, and trying to function with anxiety levels that can rise unexpectedly from the simplest of things every single day.
It’s living somewhere where the heat’s turned up so high, but you feel so cold. Over the years, by numerous people, I’ve been told to “express” myself; and I’ve
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