» Dani’s diary
Dani finds that watching tennis has a surprisingly therapeutic effect on the anxious mind of a troubled girl…
I haven’t been feeling great recently. I am having quite a few panic attacks, and when I am not feeling like that I am absolutely exhausted.
I am so bored of spending all day pretending that I feel fine that cracks are starting to appear in my façade. But it’s okay because I bought myself a sun lounger and I don’t have much of a garden!
“I want Andy Murray to win because if my kitten was a person he would look like Murray”
I had thought of something to say in this space earlier today, but that idea disappeared along with a small amount of sanity.
There is a slight delay between me writing this and it then appearing in the magazine. I am currently watching tennis. Murray vs Gasquet. I want Murray to win because it would be good to have a Brit win Wimbledon and also because if my kitten was a person he would look like Andy Murray. It’s a bit of a wrong reason to be watching tennis but… Well actually there’s no but – I am just weird.
I have no idea how the scoring works and I generally have to wait for the other people in the room to answer my irritating questions and then look at me strangely because when (or at least when it looks like) it’s getting close, I feel the need to grab my chest! I don’t know why so don’t ask.
At the time of writing this I have no idea who will win. I want Murray to win. The more I watch this the more I like it. I do not want to be looking at the computer screen. I want to shout at the TV (because that’s what sane people do!).
I can’t bear it, I have to move away from the television. At the time you are reading this you will know how it all ends. I only know how it begins. I have never been a sports fan. But perhaps I can say now that I like at least one sport. Well if anything is going to pull me out of this worrying slump, then tennis might be a good thing. It’s better than perhaps sitting in a dark room and eating shredded wheat and potato croquettes which is what happened last time.
I hate the summer because I had a nervous breakdown during this season two years ago (can you believe it has been two years?), and like any other person with an anxiety disorder I associate certain places and things with panic attacks and generally feeling so rubbish that I forget to care. So perhaps I can associate summer with Murray (the kitten lookalike) winning Wimbledon and making us all proud to be British again (not that I am not proud to be British, except when the football is on).
Or perhaps not because nothing seems to be able to stop the crappy feeling that creeps and, more often then not, pounces on me and drags me to the floor. I need to sort something out because this is no way to live. But I put on my clothes, buy a new pair of shoes, slap on a smile and get on with the day. Because I really have no other option. Which in turn makes me feel crappy. Grrrrrrrr!
