Glancing at the calendar earlier, I realised that for the past two years I've had almost permanent anxiety to one degree or another. Unlike previous episodes which were generally centred on one thing, I now find that as soon as I find some reassurance on the larger things, my mind starts rummaging around in my 'cupboard of anxieties' then emerges with something else, shouting 'Well how about this? Forgotten this hadn't you?' and I'm off again. This time it's lung/kidney/bladder cancer and I thought I'd made my peace with those particular worries long since.
If it wasn't for my two kids I think I'd just run away from it all and keep running. My doctor wants me to try paroxetine now. After reading some of the horror stories about it I'm not sure, but somehow I've got to claim my life back. Frankly I wish I'd never been born...