I’m 28 tomorrow. I’d fully intended to draft an inspiring and upbeat birthday post to publish in celebration. I LOVE my birthday and I couldn’t wait to write about how far I’ve come since I was 18 and about my hopes and dreams for the years ahead.
Instead, I’ve hit a mental health blip. And I considered not writing – who wants to hear from a miserable, anxious Bronwen on the day before her birthday? How can I call a chapter ‘Joyfully Overthinking’ only to write not-so joyfully a week later? But can I really call myself a personal blogger without blogging when it’s hard to?
It started yesterday. And the more I live life as a worrier, the more I realise it truly is hormonal. Mental health couldn’t be more physical. It’s like a switch flicked in my brain and life got harder almost immediately. I went from being nothing but excited about my birthday, to feeling like I wanted to call it off.
I’ve been worrying about all of the little things – even more so than usual. Working yesterday was an uphill struggle. When I looked at the pile of laundry in our bedroom this morning I wanted to cry. In fact, just going out for dinner to celebrate my birthday eve tonight felt like too much a couple of hours ago. Let alone seeing family tomorrow.
Except, even as I write this I’m getting there. It could be that for the last couple of hours I had my head in the final chapters of an amazing book. It could be that just writing is helping, as it always does.
It could be that these things always pass.
It’s so hard to remember when you’re in the midst of it. Mental health swings are temporary. Anxiety comes in waves, it really does. And here’s hoping this wave is passing, because that roast dinner that is coming my way tomorrow will not taste anywhere near as good with a tummy full of butterflies. Bring it on 28 – Butterfly blips and all.