Either My Anxiety Is Less Acute or I’m Better at Managing It—Which May Be the Same Thing
The psychiatrist said that there were plenty of people whose brains did much the same thing mine was doing. He called it ‘anxiety.’
More in this series
“How do I teach her letting go, when my hands are still gnarled in the shape of everything I’ve ever lost?”
The language of depression can be curiously maritime. It comes in waves; it drowns us; it’s the Mariner’s albatross around our necks.
Knowing and understanding that I’m autistic has given me the strength to experience the excess of empathy that comes from reliving my vivid, video-like memories.