The accuser

I’ve always said that there is nothing worse than being accused of something that you haven’t done. Yesterday I realised that it can be just as painful to be the accuser. The person who gets it all wrong. The person who is so full of doubts that they convince themselves that the most unlikely situations are in fact real. 

Yesterday morning was another morning full of anxiety and tears. Another day of feeling completely lost. Of feeling ‘nuts’ and remorseful. A morning of wishing desperately to be someone else, to feel differently. A morning after an argument.

So I tried to write down how I was feeling, I attempted to explain my anxiety in words, I tried to make myself feel less hopeless and I  wrote this:

Imagine being somebody who can’t sleep, their heart racing to the point that each beat shakes their body and actually hurts. They can’t fill their lungs enough to breathe properly, they are scared of putting into words what is echoing around their head. Their thoughts are at full volume and they are consuming. Imagine being somebody who’s mind races along with their heartbeat, painting scenarios that are impossible to ignore. With each toss and turn in bed the scenarios become more and more believable. Imagine being somebody so broken by their past that no matter what they do they cannot trust a single soul completely. Imagine the loneliness that brings them. Imagine feeling worthless at the discovery that they cannot even trust themselves. Imagine discovering that the ‘gut feeling’, that intuition they’re supposed to possess, is actually nothing but anxiety and fear. Imagine feeling so anxious that they cause the people they love the most severe hurt and pain. Over and over again. Imagine how that makes THEM feel.

And after you’ve taken a while to try and imagine the wretchedness that they feel, stop yourself being angry with them. Don’t punish them, they are suffering far more than you can imagine. They do not ever chose to be this way. They struggle to put one foot in front of the other some days, let alone think rationally. They are more sorry than they can put into words. But they shouldn’t need to keep apologising. They need nothing but reassurance, more than you realise. They desperately need to feel forgiven and to feel loved. They really need your help.

I wrote that yesterday morning and meant every word. Anxiety has taken a huge hold in recent days, gripping tightly and not easing up. It is unbearable and it is having an impact on everybody close to me. I feel helpless and I feel exhausted. I am worried that the above will read as though I am not full of regret, that I am not sorry that I let my anxiety spiral out of control. That I am using excuses to shift the blame. That could not be further from the truth. I am ashamed of my irrational thoughts and my false allegations. I am sorry that I feel so utterly broken right now.

Being accused is horrible, but being the accuser can be painful too. Anxiety is a truly devastating illness, for everybody. Try to be kind and understanding. You might feel frustrated, clueless, helpless, out of your depth even, but try not to be angry. It’s ok not to be ok, and there are some people out there that really need to know that sometimes.


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