In the middle of an anxiety attack last Monday my naturopath asked me who I would be if the worse possible thing happened.
My replies were about who I wouldn't be. What I would be missing.
No, she asked, who would you be?
I know people who have had the worst happen.
They still know who they are.
When I talk about who I am it is about being a mother, a wife, a teacher.
But those things aren't really who I am.
Who am I?
I am an almost sixty year old woman.
I have many very good friends. Friends who would do anything they could to help me.
I have two children who would do whatever they could to help me.
I have siblings who would be there for me if I asked.
when anxiety struck last Monday - I mean capital A N X I E T Y struck last Monday I was paralyzed.
I cried a lot.
I hurt a lot.
Then I started to reach out.
Slowly at first - tentative conversations.
Cancelling some social engagements.
Picking up the phone, even when I couldn't bear the thought of a conversation.
Calling the doctor - even though I was afraid.
Reaching out to loved ones, even though their plates are full enough.
Who am I?
I am a woman who is loved and respected by many, many people.
I am a woman who will go to great lengths to avoid conflict while all the while remaining conflicted within myself.
I am a woman who finds peace in knitting, and swimming and yoga.
I am a woman who struggles with anxiety and depression, but refuses to give up.
I almost gave up this week.
But I didn't.
I am a survivor. Or rather,
I am surviving.
Today, that is the best I can do.