It’s the middle of the night and sleep has eluded me.
I’ve been awake for hours and earlier I felt as if there was a lead weight in the pit of my stomach.
I had a sense of looming disaster and felt on the verge of tears.
This has happened before, but not for quite a while. I thought I had learned to cope with the paralysing anxiety the threat of Brexit has caused me.
I have learned to cope with it, but I have not succeeded in preventing the anxiety in the first place. Normally I am not a panicky person. In fact I am reasonably calm and my way of dealing with the onslaught of negativity (or worse) towards and scapegoating of EU citizens has been to inform myself, to be part of support groups, surround myself with like-minded friends and withdraw from those who even with lots of evidence to the contrary, still believe in unicorns.
An episode like tonight though hammers it home to me that in spite of having made Britain my home for more than half a century, the uncertainty of my future existence here causes me stress, anxiety and great sadness and I know these feeling are shared by many.
Writing about this has calmed me down. My breathing has returned to normal. The cup of ginger and honey tea I made myself also helped.
For how long though, I wonder?
@ Elly, Dutch, 77, has lived in Britain for 52 years.
First published 3rd December 2019
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