Dr Anxiety, or: How I Learned to Give In to Worrying and Hate Myself.
So I wanted to rant about what's happening in my head when I have anxiety. I'm writing this for my own sake, but I know a few people who can relate. This will mostly be a rant about what anxiety does to a me personally, and how crippling it can be. For context, I was diagnosed with moderate to severe anxiety three years ago, and that diagnosis has helped me to understand certain actions I've taken or behaviours I've had since I was sixteen. If you wish to interpret this as a cry for help, then you're probably not far wrong... Recently, one of my favourite people said to me: "your soul is so fucking pure." He said said this to me with such genuine conviction, even a sense of awe, it's honestly one of the most beautiful compliments I've ever received. The other folk who were there chipped in with their agreements. The context of why it was said isn't important, my concern is my reaction to it. I feel that the truth is that my soul is so cloude