***Trigger warnings: anxiety, depression, chronic illness***

I awkwardly lollop onto the floor and pull myself up onto my hands and knees. I feel the dizziness overwhelm me instantly, so I sit up and try shuffling along the floor on my bottom. All I want is a drink. I feel like I'm running a marathon. I've already tried to do this trip twice today and fainted each time. My head hitting the cold, solid floor. I think my head's just accustomed to the whack now. Tears sting my eyes and I succumb to laying on the floor. I stare at the ceiling, as the tears leak from my eyes, straight onto my hair.

The trip from the living room to the kitchen is about 6 feet. Today, I can't even manage that. Why am I like this? I reach for the phone, but I know no one will come. My mum lives 200 miles away. My godmum's at a funeral. My husband's at work. My sister has little ones that I don't want seeing me like this. So what do I do? I sit up and continue the bum shuffle. 

I have PoTS. When it flares up, I have been known to pass out up to 5 times a day. It's draining. I think family and friends think that because it happens so often, I should be used to it by now. I'm not, and I never will be. I get upset every few months and they reassure me I'm not a nuisance, or an inconvenience. If they mean that, why am I sitting on my own today then? I think back to the times I was able to work, nothing would have stopped me getting to someone I loved if they needed me. I need someone.

My husband says that I'm doing amazing and my life is brilliant - but the truth is, he didn't know me before. I've almost forgotten the me before PoTS. I'm not even sure she still exists. I read a book a few days ago about anxiety, but it reminded me so greatly of what PoTS has done to me.

"I don't have any friends left. I lost touch with a few people when I quit being around alcohol, and another wave when I couldn't eat in restaurants anymore. When I cut out trains and buses and my world shrunk to the size of my immediate neighbourhood, pretty much everyone stopped bothering. Those who did reach out were met with a stubborn radio silence. I thought it would be easier on everyone if I just faded into the background, then I could slip away and hardly anyone would notice".

- On Anxiety (an anthology)

I always thought feeling helpless was the worst feeling in the world. It turns out that feeling like an inconvenience is. 

Writing is the biggest release for me and writing posts like this makes me feel like I can breathe again, on days like this. Writing is the best therapy any bookworm can ask for. My thoughts sometimes spiral and make me feel like I'm not capable; whenever I write, it reminds me that I am.

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