Earlier this week, I realised I’d lost my purse. I have no idea how, or even when. I am normally pretty vigilant about where my purse and phone are and the fact that I didn’t even realise it had gone missing was an unpleasant surprise. The house was searched from top to bottom, as was the car, but we eventually had to accept that my cute leopard print Oliver Bonas baby was no more. And she’d taken my debit card, credit card, driver’s license and all the other really-should-not-lose this stuff with her. Plus a tenner in cash and a train ticket I needed to claim back for. Literally money down the drain.
(FYI - we don’t think it was deliberately stolen as we had no suspicious activity on the account.)
This was, and is, a royal pain in the arse. Both for the serious amount of life admin it will cause me and because I bloody loved that leopard print purse and it looks like Oliver Bonas have stopped stocking it #firstworldproblems. Plus on the day I realised, I was about to head out to buy lunch and pick up my inhaler from the pharmacist. So I was money, food and adequate breathing down. All things that are pretty essential to day-to-day functioning. And because, lol, anxiety, the whole episode completely fucked with my day.
I guess I was already teetering towards a Bad Anxiety Day because pursegate caused a crack and all the shit that comes with a bad anxiety day came slithering out. Logic cannot be applied in these circumstances and so no amount of ‘it’s fine, we can sort this’ will help.
Anxious days are a part of my personality trait, of who I am, and I accepted that a long time ago. What I still find hard to accept, despite knowing it’s true, is that the only thing I find that truly makes it better (aside from generally trying to take care of myself) is time. Letting it pass. And I find that beyond frustrating because it feels like everything has to pause whilst that happens. And, seriously, I have better shit to be doing. I work from home a lot, which is generally something I like, but on those days, sometimes it won’t start to ease until some form of human interaction is forced upon me which might not be until half 6 in the evening when Gary walks through the door. And I loathe writing off a day to anxiety - what a waste of freakin’ time - but I suppose I don’t help myself by being so reluctant to accept that I have to allow the time, to accept the day isn’t going to be good for much until it passes.
But it will. Irrationality will slowly float out the window and the sunshine will come back in and that’s the thing to focus on. If you too are having one of those days, a reminder for you that you made it through the others, so you will make it through this too. It will pass.
Photo by Tim Goedhart
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