Something hasn’t been right with me this week. I’ve felt a heavy sense of foreboding envelop me out of nowhere, and it has taken me ages to figure out why. After spending a lot of time alone thinking, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m anxious about a couple of things coming to an end – things that have helped me to manage my grief over the course of the last year.
A week from now I will have completed the London Marathon. When I originally signed up for the race, I did so for just one reason: to raise money for a child bereavement charity that I believe in. Once I began training, however, I noticed that I was getting so much more from it than that.
I realised I’d given myself a forward-looking focus that could help ease my mind’s preoccupation with the past. I noticed that by taking back control of…
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