The Reality Is . . .

I thought, hoped, that writing this blog would help me tackle my fear.
The reality is it might make it harder. Time will tell. I still have a number of topics I want to explain/show how anxiety can and does affect my life, and others.

William has more hope, since I started the this, that I'll magically do better and start swimming. Honestly so did I.

This kind of fear just doesn't disappear just cause you know it's there.

Staring at oneself, asking, where did you go? Who are you really?
Nothing comes, I have no clue. I want to be my old happy strong self again.
Was I really just a person of my environment? Why can't I stand on my own?
Sadness. Self hatred sets in. I turn away from the mirror and try to forget.

Evelyn is my joy, my relief. Without her I'd be worse.

I stopped by the center my bishop (church called area determined pastor) referred me to go.
He told us to go there over a month ago. I pass it on my way to work, my eye lingers, but I never stop.
Today I did. Good step in the right direction. I'm not sure what they'll do for me but I hope it works.

The reality is writing and talking about it might not be enough for me.