One year on. Isaac is one. One year old. I can't really believe it. Although he is certainly a one year old; walking and chatting and laughing and playing. Crying when he doesn't get his way, getting frustrated with his limited communication capabilities. Tantrums have started, I know they will only get more intense over the next year or two especially. My love for this little boy knows no bounds, but the hard days still overwhelm me. The sickening, anxious dread is still fairly constant. The fear of public places lessens when I'm with people I trust but I can still barely take Isaac for a walk to the end of our street by myself, let alone any further. Trying to hone in on the exact source and reason for this anxiety is something I'm working really hard on with my psychiatrist and psychologist. My mind is a cruel place. It sends shadows over perfect days, brings tears for seem...
The diary (ramblings) of an anxious Mum.