Three years after losing my twin, and I am still learning how to live with what doesn’t leave; loneliness, anxiety and depression that haven’t faded with time. They shape my days in ways that are sometimes hard to explain.
I am not the same person I was, and tinnitus has made that harder. The noise intensifies with stress and the cold and wind adds another layer. It is constant, mentally exhausting, and difficult to separate from everything else I’m trying to manage.
I continue to write because it helps me to compartmentalise my thoughts and emotions that, with autism, can feel draining and overwhelming. Writing gives them shape. It allows me to hold onto something of myself. I also continue in the hope that someone else might recognise something of their own experience in my words.
But losing someone who has been with you from the beginning leaves a different kind of absence – the feeling of being left behind. The old version of me no longer exists, and the person I used to be, feels like someone from another life.
Depression is quiet and invisible. From the outside, life may appear normal, but internally there is a continual struggle.
Without my twin, I am still learning how to adapt to life on my own. Writing is my small act of persistence – it’s what I call upon to help me keep going through the fog.
If you’re reading this and recognise your own experiences in my words, I want you to know that you’re not on your own. If you also deal with anxiety and depression, it’s easy to lose part of yourself, but please try not to lose your voice or your words.
