An Anxiety Alphabet

Dispatches From The Therapist’s Office

Back in February, it was the same question - and one that was worthy of an inward groan of epic proportions. One of the distressing Covid symptoms I had been really struggling with was how my legs would lock together - and pull me to the floor, all of their own accord with no warning. The reactions ranged from the concerned to the massively unhelpful - such as being informed that I was scaring people around me or a cane to support me walking would be hidden from me, to prove this wasn’t needed somehow. Isn’t she rather snazzy?

The consultant with kind eyes asked the question again: “Are you anxious?” 

I laughed harder than I should have at that. It’s like asking an alcoholic if they like a red wine with breakfast, lunch and dinner - why it took so many tests to get to that I don’t know. 

It took the NHS a while to get on board after 4 referrals from 4 seperate people - because medical ableism and sexism is a *massive* thing, of course. And yet again, here are even more assessments - just to check you’re ‘enough’. I had to laugh at the results. Presented with a sexy flourish, here was a stylised graph - confirming what had been said all along. 

So - on that note: here is An Anxiety Alphabet, just to explain what this feels like, taken from a moment of typing in a coffee shop based on 48 hours. Hopefully we can have a laugh about this; we are not our thoughts, and writing out makes this even clearer sometimes: