Last week I posted about being lost in life, I spoke about how I didn’t know where I am going but after a week of reflection I’d say it’s deeper than that.
I don’t know who I am.
It’s sort of like I’ve lost my identity. There are stories out there where people have spoken about how anxiety and depression can take over your life, that they can take away everything about you. You lose yourself. I guess I’m discovering I’ve lost me through dealing with them both.
Recent politics haven’t helped. I’m British, enough said there really. This week the dreaded Brexit Day happened, I’ve always seen myself as British and European. While I know leaving the EU doesn’t change that it feels like it does. I’ve never saw myself as English, despite being born there, I would say I’m British but if the Union breaks up I lose that part of me to (yes I’m worrying about something that might not happen, but that’s the joys of anxiety). I guess if that happens I’m Northumbrian. I guess what I’m trying to say is I don’t know me anymore, which is a strange thing ti say since I am me.
I guess there’s more to feeling lost in life then just not knowing which direction I’m going. There’s much more to it, there’s many layers which I’m only just starting to unravel.
Maybe if I do some more digging, I might be able to find me. If I can maybe I can be me once again someday and start to be happy. I miss being happy.
Conversations With Myself 