There’s been a terrorist attack in London again, this time in the London Bridge area.
When I was still talking to my sister, sometimes she would get the train home to Kent from London Bridge station.
I’ve barely slept all night, because I’m going out of my mind with worry.
When I did manage to get some shut eye, I had a nightmare that my mum managed to track me down, but refused to tell me if my sister was alive or dead because I’d told them that I didn’t want anything to do with them anymore.
I could call the house… If she’s still living there she’s the one most likely to answer the phone.
Or I could just wait on the news….
I’ve contacted a family friend asking if she knows anything. To be honest, I think I’m being irrational. At the moment, in general my anxiety is through the roof – I’ve developed my irrational phobia of public toilets again, which means that while I’m out, regardless of how long for, I’ll wait until I get home to go to the toilet. So I’m sure I’m being just as irrational about this.
She’s fine and I have nothing to worry about.
They’ve probably not even lost any sleep worrying about me, knowing that I live in London and this is the second terrorist attack where I live, in three months.
I contacted a mutual friend this afternoon, who was able to reassure me that my sister was alive and safe.
I’m thankful for that.
I’m also thankful that I had the wisdom to do that and protect my mental health. In a situation like that, I could’ve rushed into a danger and made so many horrendous decisions, sending me back down the black hole I’ve spent so many months trying to successfully keep myself out of when it comes to my family.
I’m so heartbroken for the lives that have been lost.
This world is darker than I can fathom right now.