Dear Stranger on the Bridge

Dear Stranger on the Bridge,

As you went about your day, that sunny Tuesday afternoon, you may have spotted that girl standing on the bridge, phone outstretched, trying to get that perfect selfie of her and her Boyfriend. You may have seen the multiple attempts at getting the smile just right and the angle just so. You may have thought to yourself: "how sweet. They look so happy". You may have thought nothing because there was nothing to notice. Two seemingly happy 20-somethings standing on a bridge trying to get that perfect snapshot of time for social media. You would have thought no differently if later that day you'd seen that photo online with some cute caption to remember the day by. Or when that same girl used that photo weeks later to celebrate her boyfriends birthday, because it was the most recent photo she could find of them together. 

I wouldn't blame you, stranger passing by, for not questioning that moment. I wouldn't blame you for just assuming that that couple on the bridge were perfectly happy. But that's why I wanted to write this letter. To tell you the truth.

When you saw us, we had just walked along a river, through fields and woodland, hearing trains pass in the distance. We had meandered through the countryside, up some tricky terrain with the threat of a twisted ankle at multiple turns. We had followed signposts and checked google maps at regular intervals, finally completing the Thames Path route, Goring to Pangbourne. It was a lovely idea, the walk. Something - and somewhere - new to explore while we both had a week off from work. Plus the countryside is beautiful around those parts. It should have been such an enjoyable, peaceful, mind-clearing activity. And yet....

My brain had been working its way towards something over the past few weeks and months. While to the outside world, I was happy and confident, inside my mind was spiralling. To strangers like you I appeared calm and collected and yet inside thoughts were racing, dipping and diving, shouting over each other to be heard. Imagine being in a room full of people all trying to talk to you at once, reminding you of things you don't wish to remember and questioning everything. Asking: "are you happy?", "but are you sure?", "what if....?", "and remember...". In the quiet of a countryside village, my mind was loud. It felt like I was being attacked from all angles and I couldn't find the voice to scream "BE QUIET! GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE". Apparently, I was required to listen, and to consider everything about my life very carefully. What's more, I was required to think quickly. My heart beat fast in my chest, adrenaline pumping, as if I was being chased across this beautiful bridge. You may not be able to see it, dear stranger, but this thing chasing me? It's big and it's scary and it's largely made up of fears about the future:

My relationship - Is it perfect? Is it right? Are you sure? If it's not, then what do I do?

My parents - When might I lose them? How long do I have? I can't survive without them. They need to meet my children. 

My fertility - Can I even had children? What if I can't? I can't know without trying but I'm not ready to try....

My job - Am I happy? Is this something I want to do forever? I'm not skilled in anything else...I need to know what I'm doing...I can't go back to studying. Would something else pay enough to live the life I want?

Questions buzz around my head, giving me no time or space to stop and breathe. I need to answer all of them and I need to do it now. The buzzing continues beyond the bridge and the car journey home, beyond that evening and the next day. Finally something has to give. I find myself crying hysterically on the sofa at 10pm, Wednesday evening, blurting out everything that's been stuck in my head. First to my boyfriend and then to my parents and friends. I feel terrible. I've released my worries on the world and now they're out there free to cause mayhem wherever and whenever they please....

But wait...

Is it me, or are they getting smaller? When the buzzing was all in my head, standing on that bridge, it felt so loud...now someone has slightly turned down the volume. Suddenly it's not just my thoughts against little old lonely me in this battle. I've got allies. I've got my boyfriend, I've got my friends, my parents...And with each and every one, my voice gets louder. Since that evening, I've added another ally to my army: a new therapist. She's not my first and, by no means, is she my last. After roughly 2 years of pretty solid mental health, my mind reached a point of needing help again. I listened to my psychiatrist and increased my medication too. If it was my arm or my leg that needed help, I'd not think twice about taking the painkillers, or doing the treatment. So, I shall do the same for my brain. I always will. 

Anxiety thrives off uncertainty, as my therapist explained, and nothing in life is certain, except death. I can't be certain that by Christmas I'll feel fine, I can't say for sure when the next big blip will come. What I can do, for now, is take control: I can be honest when people ask "how are you?" and send this letter out into the world. I can focus on the moment, reminding myself nothing in the future is certain. I can carry on living my life, one step at a time. I can say I have anxiety, anxiety doesn't have me. 

If you've read this far, dear stranger, thank you. Remember, not everything you see is at it seems.