I just want to go home.
At the end of my capacity to handle the noise and invasiveness of everyday life, is the relevant safety of my bed.
At home, no one is expecting much. No one is looking.
There is space, and comfort.
Respect for all that is cosy.
On top of the general struggles of anxiety is the unexpected task of handling other people.
Explaining to friends why you only want to make plans that are easy to cancel. Considering the reactions of strangers if you start crying in public. How to truthfully answer the seemingly innocuous question: ‘how are you?’.
But sometimes, hiding the struggle costs more than it is worth. Sometimes, talking makes you feel better, not worse. Sometimes people share your experiences. Sometimes people just understand.
The amount we discuss our mental health (still a weirdly clinical, stigma inducing phrase) doesn’t really reflect the amount it affects us.
Lots of us.
… most of us?
So a little selfishly, a little vulnerably, here I am. Adding to the conversation.
The Go Home Club is my safe space. Thoughts, experiences, conversations.
You’re welcome to join.