Diagnosed, But Not Defined



It’s been a full week since I left work, and yesterday I went to the doctor. He confirmed something I’ve always known but never had written down: I have anxiety.
I’ve never liked labels. Maybe that’s why I avoided getting a diagnosis for so long. I’ve managed it fine over the years until this last job came along and turned the volume up to max. The stress was relentless! Nothing like a daily dose of dread to start your morning.
Hearing it officially “You have anxiety” felt strange. Not shocking, just… formal. Like someone finally stamped a name on something I’ve been quietly carrying. I didn’t need the title to know how it feels, but maybe now I can start figuring out what helps.
I’m hoping there’s light at the end of the tunnel. For now, I’m taking things one day at a time. 

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