subject line: help.

 

birmingham, england 

Right now, my heart is pounding, there is a whooshing in my ears and my palms are sweating. Because at this time, in an hour, I will be sitting in front of a therapist, hopefully pouring out secrets from the deepest, darkest nooks and crevices of my brain, that have yet to be upturned by anyone else. It’s going to happen in an hour. And boy, am I scared.

But I hope and plead that afterwards, I’ll feel a sense of relief. That slowly, over the next few weeks, things WILL start to get better. That despite all the **** that is happening in my life right now, tiny fragments and paper thin pieces of who I once was will reappear. And if not, a new me will emerge. She will be strong, determined, beautiful and a warrior, something I’ve always wanted to be. And when I see it that way, I don’t know why I hadn’t done this earlier. But for now, I’m sitting here, with my heart pounding and anxiety consuming my entirety, nervously anticipating what is going to happen in an hour.