You ok, hun?

Tonight I was in a meeting. I was snappy and I was moaney. And afterwards I sent an email to everyone who was there to apologise and allude to why that was. I got some lovely emails telling me that I hadn’t been. But I know those people. Those people are genuinely lovely, they just can’t help it. So I don’t know if I imagined it, or if I really was snappy and moaney. Either way, that’s not good. I don’t mean the lovely replies, they WERE good, and I very much appreciated them, and I love those people very much. What isn’t good is that I don’t know which I was. Because that lack of self awareness… that’s a sign. And it’s not the first one. The same goes for the moaney and snappy.

This post is an experiment. And I don’t know, really, what experiment it is (bad scientific practice). I can’t work out if it’s just me trying to rationalise something that isn’t rational. Or if it’s an open apology to anyone coming into contact with me at the moment ‘just in case’. Or if it’s me trying to fight it off.

What I *think* it is, is me trying to be open about something before it gets to the stage where I either shut down completely, or burst into tears when I try to get the words out.

Whatever the hell it is, it’s difficult to write. But I’m taking a deep breath, striking a Wonder Woman pose, and then I’m sitting down in my Wonder Woman costume and writing it: I am not ok.

This isn’t a cry for help. Remember my previous post? You can’t help.

But I am not ok.

I’m not a wreck. I haven’t cancelled plans at the last minute and then lied about why. I haven’t burst into tears in Waitrose. I haven’t taken to drinking my body weight in wine. I haven’t stayed in bed all day crying about what a pointless waste of oxygen I am. These are all things that I have done in the past. More than once. But not this time. Or at least, not yet.

I have been horribly moody, and a bit manic. I have ignored text messages. I’ve had a few little random, ‘just for the hell of it’ cries. I have wandered mindlessly and vacantly through shops. I’ve not been able to concentrate enough to read a full chapter of a book. Things that I would normally just take in my stride, I have allowed to get to me. I have been questioning my life choices and my judgement.

I know these things happen to lots of people. Most people, even. But I also know myself, and I’ve been down this path before. I know where it leads. My sense of direction isn’t great, but it’s not *that* bad.

I’m following my own advice. I’m forcing myself to go out. I’ve bought a load of theatre tickets for the coming weeks. I’ve been for a run, and will force myself to go again tomorrow. I’m looking up at the sky.

I don’t know if any of that will stop it in its tracks. I hope so. I hope it does. For myself (Selfish!). And for my parents, who can’t understand why being brought up in a stable, loving home hasn’t helped with preventing the breakages. And for The Husband who has had to pick up the pieces of his broken wife SO many times, while his heart breaks over the fact that he can’t glue those pieces back together, no matter how hard and patiently he tries. And for my friends who have done the same.

Who knows? It might be stoppable. I might have caught it in time. I hope so, because when it runs riot, it’s like a four year old who, in the space of twenty seconds, has stripped, shit itself, thrown the shit all over you, and is now lying in the middle of a motorway having a tantrum… while you watch on in a daze trying to work out how the hell you let this happen, and what the blinking bananas you can do to fix it. It isn’t fun.

I’ll just have to wait and see. I wanted to be honest about it, because a lot of people have been asking me recently, ‘Are you ok?’, and I keep answering, ‘Yes! GOOD! (See? Manic. I told you so.) Everything is grand.’ But it’s not. I’m not ok.

And I’m trying to make it ok for myself to admit it when I’m not ok.

That’s ok, right?

This post was originally published as ‘The Anxious Actor”