Best 11 quotes of Sara Barnard on MyQuotes

And then it happens. The panic. It's slow at first, creeping through the cracks in my thoughts until everything starts to feel heavy. It builds; it becomes something physical that clutches at my insides and squeezes out the air and the blood.

Chronic anxiety is a form of illness. It's not something you bring on yourself by how you feel on any given day. It isn't about happiness and sadness. Anxiety doesn't care if you're happy or not, just like cancer doesn't care if you're happy.

Here are three separate but similar things: shyness, introversion and social anxiety. You can have one, two or all three of these things simultaneously. A lot of the time people thing they're all the same thing, but that's just not true. Extroverts can be shy, introverts can be bold, and a condition like anxiety can strike whatever kind of social animal you are. Lots of people are shy. Shy is normal. A bit of anxiety is normal. Throw the two together, add some brain-signal error - a NO ENTRY sign on the neural highway from my brain to my mouth perhaps, though no one really knows - and you have me.

How to look after your very drunk friend Step 1: Find her in the bathroom, slumped against the towel rack Step 2: Ask her if she needs to be sick. Try not to get offended when she yells that she's NOT DRUNK Step 3: Tell her it's fine when she apologises, bursts into tears and then falls asleep on your shoulder. [...] Step 6: Root around in her front pocket for her keys. Make a joke about inappropriate touching. Laugh when she earnestly tells you that you could touch her anywhere, because nothing's inappropriate when you're best friends. Step 7: Write it down so you can mock her with it tomorrow, and for the rest of time. Step 8: Tell her mother that yes, you both had a great time. Pour two glasses of water, carry them both up the stairs (Make her go first, so you can catch her if she trips)

I’m just saying that sadness isn’t beautiful. And if it looks that way, it’s a lie.

I want the world, I think. Even if it scares me.

I was sixteen, and I honestly believed I was due a love story.

I was sixteen, and I honestly believed that I was due a love story.

Mum has had an anxious daughter for sixteen years and she still doesn't seem to get the concept of little victories. The spending an evening where I wasn't feeling sick every time someone asked me a question is actually a really big deal [...] There's no such thing as getting your hopes up if you're anxious. Little victories are everything in a world where worst-case scenarios are on an endless loop in your head.

Panic attacks are a lot like being drunk in some ways, you lose self-control. You cry for seemingly no reason. You deal with the hangover long into the next day.

When I’d heard ‘abuse’, I’d thought of violence as being something simple... I hadn’t even considered the framework that allowed it to happen in the first place. The blind eyes turned, the excuses made, the insidious lies whispered into the ear of a child so desperate for love they mistook a gentle tone for truth.