Hi, Hey, Hello!

Anger is a weird place to start this month challenge for myself. It suggest aggression in some way. And maybe this is coming from a place of aggression on some level. Or maybe not.

This isn’t anger in a general sense. This is just something that has started to bubble under the surface early last month as I came to a realization about something.

Now there was a whole month or so where I pretty openly talked about self-care and mental health and all that jazz. I’ve finally stopped just sweeping that one under the carpet, funnily enough for the sake of my mental health. It feels kind of freeing I gotta level with you.

The decision to do this didn’t come easily I have to be honest. And that is mainly because I had that thing happen to me where I had a GP tell me that I was effectively making it up and I had no reason to be thinking these thoughts. I mean there is a large part of me that thinks perfectly rationally about it all. And I’m relatively attractive. And I’m a smart girl. And I have a job and family and friends and the thoughts have never gotten super bad or anything, so I should just ‘stop thinking the negative thoughts’. At the time I was fully convinced that I was in fact just making it up and that I really should just get better at trying to think happier thoughts. I did really believe that.

I mean I didn’t believe it so much that I didn’t then go back to a different GP and they actually treated it like a real issue. They did all the things that you would expect from a GP. She tried to rule out if there was anything physically wrong with me and then actually gave me some forms that led me to actual therapy that could probably help with the whole anxiety issue. I left that trip to the GP feeling like it might actually get better when I had gone in feeling helpless af.

That did not happen the first time.

You know what happened the first time?

I left with a prescription for a steroid cream for the hyperpigmentation on my face and some tablets that would supposedly help prevent any future breakouts.

Now let me remind you that I went in because of my anxiety.

That GP listened to me speak and voice my genuine concerns as I became hyper aware of everything and looked at my face and he somehow managed to spin it to make me think that for some reason I was just sub consciously worried and concerned about the state of it.

I wasn’t.

Am I annoyed by it?

Sure a little.

Has it ever impacted my life that much?


It’s not like a spend ages each morning applying foundation to cover it up. I really don’t really care about it. It was way worse than it is now when I was in my late teens and it cleared up fine. And it’s clearing up fine again now.

And it didn’t require a steroid cream and remembering to take a pill each morning.

Which is where the anger is now coming from. Because I didn’t really think about it until a few weeks ago. About ridiculous the whole thing was.

And how angering it was.

To have my legitimate fears and worries at the time be quickly dismissed because what it really all boils down to is a lack of confidence in the skin on my face felt like a punch to the gut that I hadn’t realized before. Probably because I had buried it somewhere and tried to focus more on getting myself into a decent headspace.

And then I found myself in the right headspace and now it just annoys me.

Or more specifically angers me.

Because I know that I am not an isolated incident. Heck, I know that I am fortunate enough that when I went back to a different GP that they took it seriously and led me down the path of help. Which did help and now means that I am in a wildly different place than I was this time last year. Which I am so thankful for because last year was shit. Being in that place mentally was shit. Being mostly out of that place is great.

I still have some way to go because I am always going to be my worst enemy but I am in a better place than I was.

And as such I can see really clearly how fucking stupid that first opinion was. And looking back I am kind of annoyed at the fact that when I was handed a prescription for something that I did not go in for I went and got it filled because there was a rather large part of me that was clinging to the idea that maybe it would fix the problem.

It didn’t.

My face got super sore and sensitive and I hated having to remember to take the damn pill.

You know what I didn’t hate?

The weekly therapy sessions I had for 2 months that helped me process things more and helped me actually accept the rational thoughts that I always had as opposed to dismissing them knowing that it was dumb and then indulging the negative ones (like telling me that cardio was the devil and I should avoid it at all costs…)

This got hella ranty, but I think I knew that when I went in to writing it. It was something that I needed to get off my chest. Because getting it out somehow is always better than keeping it bottled in.

That is something therapy taught me.

Parentheses count: 1. See you tomorrow!

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Sophie, twenty-something, avid reader, writer, really good at watching whole seasons of TV shows in one weekend and using 10 words where 5 will do, overzealous user of the ellipsis and parentheses, starts too many sentences with ‘and’ and ‘so’, living in a continual state of Wanderlust.

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