A Poem About Anxiety

Sitting in the metaphorical dirt

That clouds my racing brain

Wondering how I got here

Again and again and again

Nothing seems to work

To keep the doubts at bay

Fear is the only constant

And my tears that I hide away


I know I am not alone.  And I know that my “issues” do not surpass anyone else’s.  All is relative mi amigos and amigas.  For as long as I can remember, my “stuff” wasn’t important.  I dealt by making jokes and minimizing my feelings.  Why should I complain when what is happening to other people around the world is absolutely atrocious?  I mean c’mon.  Read the news.  If you do, you know I got nothing.

Ah but I do.  And the dam is about to break.  My heavy aching flood of emotions have been contained far too long.

As always, more to come.

13 thoughts on “A Poem About Anxiety

  1. I don’t know why “we” do this to ourselves. In the realms of pain and hurt (and anxiety), I don’t think it is relative. There isn’t a pain Olympics. There are children starving in Africa (and, well, America), but that doesn’t negate you or a loved one having an eating disorder. And as you suggest, down-playing your pain doesn’t get rid of it, doesn’t cure it, it just leaves it to fester. Feeling guilty that other people “have it worse” doesn’t negate your pain. It is ok to feel what you feel. (Easier said than done.)

    Liked by 2 people

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