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Someone gets close. Really close. Closer than you've let anyone be in a while. And then something shifts. You start pulling back, creating space, finding reasons why it won't work or why you need time or why they're probably not right for you anyway. You don't plan it. You might not even want it. But it happens anyway, this quiet retreat that feels both automatic and inevitable. When you're alone again afterwards, you wonder what the hell just happened. If that sounds familia

They say it gently at first. Maybe over dinner, or in bed after the silence has stretched too long. "You've changed." And you have. You know you have. Something inside you shifted after what happened. You don't laugh the same way. Touch feels different. Conversations that used to flow now feel effortful, distant. You pull back when you don't mean to. You snap when you don't want to. Or you go quiet and can't find the words to explain why. And your partner doesn't understand.

You've probably been told to breathe. To calm down. To think positive. To challenge your thoughts. And maybe some of that helped, for a moment. But then the tightness comes back. The racing heart. The restlessness. The sense that something is wrong even when, on paper, everything should be fine. Here's what I've learned working with people seeking anxiety counselling in Sutherland Shire: anxiety is rarely just anxiety. It's a signal. A protective part of you that's doing its