So, I’ve been feeling pretty rotten the last couple of days. I have what seems to be a lymph node “up” behind my ear that hurts to touch, and of course my not-so-rational brain is telling me it’s all kinds of unlikely diseases. Terminal diseases. Sound crazy? It kinda is. For those of you that don’t know, I’m a certified, signed, stamped and sealed hypochondriac; well, not that they use that term anymore in warm-fuzzy-therapy-land. According to the very politically correct doctors, I have chronic and debilitating health anxiety. Not the whiney kind that you see on TV that use too much hand sanitiser and visit their doctor every second day, but the real-life kind, which is much more horrible, and way less funny. I was first diagnosed with health anxiety when I was nine, so it’s been a long battle with my own mind. I see a great psychologist and am not-so-happily medicated which keeps the edge off and allows me to mostly function from day to day, but some days are better than others.
Today wasn’t great, except for when David found a bright pink praying mantis clinging onto the side of our old car.
I keep reminding myself that my worst illness is my health anxiety, and that I’m physically okay. I don’t have a terrible terminal illness, the lymph node is only a lymph node that’s up because I have a small cold, not some kind of horrible I-can’t-even-write-the-word sickness.
But despite all this misery, I’m pretty proud that I dragged my butt out of bed this morning and did some craft. The simple fact that I did any craft at all is a miracle – I’m hardly Martha Stewart – but I felt obligated to put something on here. I haven’t posted in a couple of days, and I’m hoping to keep this place fresh. I made a sweet little reed diffuser, and stripped back some disgusting looking, ancient candles and DIY style recovered them. Seriously, they look brand new and lovely! I’ll post some images soon, and instructions on how to replicate my candle transformation.
I guess I felt it was time to start talking about the side of me that I’m not so proud of. I hope that through blogging a little about my anxiety and panic that it will come outside of me somehow, and maybe lessen. I’m often so overwhelmed by the parts of me that I still can’t completely control. The terrible, irrational fears that I live with always.
My brain is silly.