A for Anxiety

A poem about running away from anxiety, creating mindful adventures, fighting the stigma, and battling your inner demons.

Pushing through

8 weeks today sounds like a great deal of time to accomplish many things; it also feels like no time at all. The past 3 weeks feel wasted having had to deal with ‘stuff’: tummy upset, nausea, headaches, stress, mania, hypomania, irritability, fatigue, roller coaster emotions, insomnia, runner’s knee, children’s infirmary visits, broken phone, kaput GPS. Clearly a whole host of distractions when I needed to be in the zone, upping my game, achieving new mileage, putting my stake in the ground. I’m annoyed with myself because I haven’t managed to get my emotions, head & training back on track…

Raw, Inspiration

I woke up today wondering how I could restore some of the belief that I once held in my own dreams. You see, lately, they’ve become wishy-washy, a hope rather than a goal, dimly lit and hazy. I’m not sure when that happened. It certainly wasn’t overnight, but instead a gradual erosion of self-confidence and belief in changes that could be made. I began to realise that there were few around me who believed in me, and few who I could believe in. I found the answer, a glimmer of hope, in the unfortunate to some, or perhaps the fortuitous…