As the world is engulfed by a once-in-a-century disaster, a long-term anxiety sufferer marvels at how well she is coping
I’ve seen a psychologist for most of my life. In that time, I’ve never struggled to find something to talk about. But this week, when the appointment reminder lit up my phone, I paused. It had been a month between visits. During the last session I easily looped through a classic routine: moving from childhood, to parents, past relationships and patriarchy, barely pausing to let the professional talk. My self-actualisations were still bubbling out as I left the office. My therapist assured me we’d pick up next session. I’d already begun making notes.
Then the entire world buckled under a once-in-a-century disaster. Every idea, plan, preconception and daydream I had about my future dissolved. The trust I held in my body was proven to be delusional hubris. I was more isolated, vulnerable, terrified and confused than ever. But reading the polite text outlining the no-show fees, I couldn’t think of anything I needed to talk about.
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