We met at the very worst time. I had just found out that I was the victim of several years worth of image-based sexual abuse. I was spiralling but didn’t know it. I kept busy, I ate less, I drank more. I went after thrills even more than before. I wasn’t treating myself very well.
Anxiety can make me become completely paranoid. I imagine the very worst is going to happen and it’s going to be my fault. This normally happens when I begin to feel anxious about talking to somebody about something that has been bothering me.
I’ve been wondering about the lottery recently – wondering whether winning would make me any happier. My SO and I often talk about how we would spend it, how we would give a lot away to family, friends and charities, how we would be sensible with it (but perhaps not on the first few days).
I used to wake up with a routine that was ready to begin. I would go out for a run, earlier than I needed to just to make sure the streets were a little bit emptier. I would run in the dark winter mornings, those icy cold days that made my fingers feel like they …