Dear Anxiety

Dear Anxiety

Dear Anxiety,

You take up so much time in each thought that travels through my mind, 

creating what if scenarios, and forever keeping my brain whirring.

You keep me up at night, whispering in my ear;

Have you thought about this? Have you thought about that? 

Questioning everything, even my own existence. 

You’ve broken me anxiety. 

Dear Anxiety, 

You never leave me alone, at peace, 

Your requirements are that I think about things often and in great detail.

In more detail than those around me and diving deeper into the what ifs than the average person.

You are constantly there, like a gremlin on my shoulder. 

You persist and persist, quizzing me about everything and everyone. 

The feeling of dread never deserts me, and feels heavy on my chest every waking moment. 

Normal people feel you for a while and then you go away, 

But I feel you to the extreme and you never go away. 

You’ve broken me anxiety. 

Dear Anxiety,

You’ve wrecked my 2019 and you fill my next year with fear, 

because I don’t know if I can get past you anxiety. 

I don’t know how to leave you outside and never invite you in again. 

You’ve haunted me for so long and ruled my life since I was a teenager. 

Anxiety, you’ve made me hurt myself, cry myself to sleep and hurt other people in the process of learning to live with you. 

If I can’t get rid of you completely I don’t know what I’ll do as I have no clue how to thrive with you by my side. 

You’ve broken me anxiety. 

Dear Anxiety, 

Most of the time I have no words for you but today I’m writing you this letter begging you to please, please, please leave me alone. 

You’re slowly ruining me and taking away my sense of belonging, sense of hope and sense of purpose. 

I never thought I’d let you stop me doing the things I love, slowly but surely you’ve seeped in, gatecrashing every moment, and taking away my joy. 

You’ve broken me anxiety. 

Dear Anxiety, 

You’re a deadly disease, but people don’t understand that they think that you’re just in jumbled up heads. 

Theres been times I think I’ve made you up but how can I have made you up when the physical affects of you take over me.

Like when the panic rises over the level I can manage and the attack begins.

You’ve broken me anxiety. 

Dear Anxiety, 

the weight of you on my chest and on my shoulders is unbearable. 

The hyperventilating, the fast heart rate, the sweaty palms, the hiding wherever I can, all come hand in hand with the racing thoughts and the muddled mind. 

I can’t hide you anxiety, in my mind and body you have made your home. 

But it can’t stay this way. 

You’ve broken me anxiety. 

Dear Anxiety, 

I’m done with you being the one in control. 

I’m done with you dictating what I can and cannot do. 

I’m done with the way you have stolen my joy and purpose. 

I’m done with the way you’ve robbed me of the things I love the most, including my job. 

I’m done with the way you tell me this way is the right way to do life. 

I’m done with the exhaustion. 

I’m done with you anxiety, you no longer are going to be in charge. 

For this body and mind you’ve inhabited is not yours but mine. 

And I’m claiming it back.

Dear Anxiety,  

I’m claiming back the time you’ve stolen from me. 

I’m claiming back the thoughts you’ve taken over.

I’m claiming back the energy you take up and the job you robbed me of.

I’m claiming back the mind you’ve made confused, disjointed and disorganised.

I’m claiming back the control. 

I’m claiming back the thoughts of life and not those of death. 

I’m claiming back the fun you’ve taken from me

And I’m claiming back the enjoyment 

because you’ve drained me of everything I am anxiety 

so I’m saying HERE is where I start again and rebuild what you have broken. 

Dear Recovery

Dear Recovery

Dear recovery,

You scare me more than you’ll ever know. 

You are close to me, 

within my touch, 

within my reach

Yet you’ve also never felt so far away

Recovery,

you stare me in the face desiring me to look into your eyes 

and for me to fall in love with you

But when you’ve learnt how to live hating yourself and destroying yourself 

doing the opposite seems impossible, unreachable. 

And though it’s hard to say, undesirable.

I have fallen in love with ruining myself 

and so falling in love again, 

this time with you is just not possible.

Dear recovery, 

you choose people,  

Sometimes you choose those that seem the furthest away from you 

and you try and entice them near 

like offering candy to a small child. 

You’ll do anything to get them 

but I’m onto you recovery. 

I know what you’re doing.

You try and convince me to love myself and I can’t do that so I can’t be with you. 

You try and make me want to live 

and when I’ve spent so long wanting to die 

how do I do that?

Dear Recovery,

You scare me because I’m scarred permanently with the marks of this mental illness, 

even if I’m with you there will be reminders that I’ve been where I am now. 

I can’t deal with the way you target those around me to inspire me. 

Sometimes I’m jealous 

Other times I’m just done with you wrecking my head 

by being with them and not with me. 

I’ll never be like them, I’ll never hold on to you as tight as they manage to.

Even when I want you recovery 

I have decided you are too good to be true 

and I sure as hell don’t deserve you. 

Dear recovery,

I’m here reaching for you on some days 

And turning you away on the next 

You want to embrace me

But I’m not so sure you’re right for me?

I live with the voice in my head so against me

How you can be so for me? 

Dear Recovery, 

Oh boy do you scare me

When I’m battling with those who care for me?

They want me to hold your hand 

Run with you into the sunset 

And never look back

But recovery

Some days I’ll hold your hand and run with you 

Other days I’ll let go and escape from your reach

Some days I despise you

Other days I desire you

You confuse me recovery

My mind is unsure what to make of you

But I’ll tell you this recovery

You make me want to shout at you

In anger, in rage because I don’t understand you

And in love and hope because you’re the only unchanging thing I could possibly cling to.

Dear recovery,

Why do you feel so unreachable 

Why do you scare me 

When all you want is me to reach out to you

I don’t know who I am with you, 

But in all honesty I don’t know who I am without you either.

There is hatred, 

there is anger,

 there is the a self destruction button 

that I’ve pressed far too many times.

Dear recovery, 

Everyone expects me to be best friends with you 

to want you more than I want anything else

But what happens if sometimes, just sometimes,

I want the thing that I’m used to.

The mess in my mind is what I’m used to

And sometimes my comfort zone is all I want to know 

But, recovery, it’s about time I leant on you, 

 learnt from you 

and spent time with you 

So please help me recovery, 

even when I’m unsure, 

help me to choose you. 

each day I need to make a choice 

and despite our dodgy History 

And what the voice in my head might say

I want that choice to be you recovery 

3 weeks

3 weeks

I don’t think you’ll understand 

but today marks three weeks self harm free. 

All I want to do is self sabotage, I want to

Ruin it.

I can't explain why 

but that's where my brain goes 

when I’ve been three weeks self harm free.

If you don’t understand, I’m glad.

The feeling of three weeks self harm free.

It means you haven’t experienced that

Dark place.

I'm still suffering

In silence this time

When I've been three weeks self harm free.

I’m loudly proud 

of being three weeks self harm free.

But then comes the feelings, that I’m not

sick enough. 

Not sick enough for support,

not worthy of any help

when I’ve been three weeks self harm free.

I’m quietly anxious

of being three weeks self harm free.

Anxious I’ll slip up, ruin my streak, and 

mess up.

Mess up I will not, 

I beg my mind, please,

When I’ve been three weeks self harm free.

The urges are high

battling through three weeks self harm free.

I cannot cave. I will not give in, I must 

resist the urges

like Jesus facing Satan, in 

the wilderness,

when I’ve been three weeks self harm free.

Missing the euphoria 

and being three weeks self harm free.

The adrenaline gone, not there, 

completely absent 

I can’t miss the feeling,

surely? 

when I’ve been three weeks self harm free.

The scars are fading 

because I’m three weeks self harm free.

The marks that cover my body, disappearing 

slowly, slowly.

The body confidence I’ve never had may come, 

or maybe it won’t, 

when I’ve been three weeks self harm free.

It’s a weird, mixed feeling

of being three weeks self harm free.

I can’t decide whether I like it, or whether

it kills me. 

Doing it makes me feel alive, and now 

it’s gone, 

when I’ve been three weeks self harm free.

Be proud, they say,

I’m three weeks self harm free.

Be happy, they say, 

Embrace it, they say. 

Enjoy it, they say.

Not yet, I say, 

when I’ve been three weeks self harm free.

The chase and the voice

The chase and the voice

It's never been this loud before, 
my hands are clenching my head. 
It's making me want to run, 
I'm at A&E waiting for a psych bed. 
And this is the loudest the voice has been. 
It's horrible, nasty, evil.
The words, sometimes muttered, sometimes shouted. 
The demands given are nasty, dark and exhausting. 
But there's a pull, because it takes over, 
and in that moment I can't rationalise, 
so the voices wins.
And on this occasion I run. 
I run because it tells me to run. 
And theres a chase. 
There's a chase because I'm a danger to myself. 
But the voice is loud. 
The voice is unkind.
The chase, 
by the doctors and nurses is undramatic, 
but slightly eventful 
and I cry
and the nurse hugs me
and the chase is over. 
This repeats itself
again, 
again, 
and again. 
Just like the voice does,
again, 
again, 
and again. 
I'm sorry
again, 
again,
and again.
But the voice is not sorry.
It carries on, 
relentless, 
and it takes over,
and I have no control. 
And it's the voice that wins
and the chase that wins
as they catch me
and bring me back into the hospital.
Everything else is winning, 
not me, 
I'm not winning. 
The battle is tough, 
the voice is loud
and the chase is real. 

Talk about it

Talk about it

7 steps forward, 8 steps back.
Of motivation, do I considerably lack. 
How much longer, I ask myself, can I cope?
I long for, my heart to be filled, filled up with hope. 
How much more of this hurt can I bare?
People around me exclaiming this isn't fair.
Some people encourage me, telling me I'm smashing it.
I don't know anymore, how much of this smile is faking it.
I've got through, just about, every bad day so far. 
Wish I could bottle up my fight and keep it in a jar. 
The monster up inside of my head
Wishes for nothing more than for me to be dead.
But I've got to fight,
Right?
I've got to keep this life going.
Even if it takes up my everything.
Even when I'm exhausted and tired. 
I know deep down, keep going I should. 
It seems so very, very dark. 
As on my leg the razor does mark. 
It hurst, I feel the pain. 
But nobody stops going, even after the day of rain.
I must look for the good,
That is something I should.
People send me love and prayer
And I remind myself of this in the midst of this nightmare. 
It's okay not to be okay
The world around me does say. 
Talk about it. 
Even when the voices chat shit. 
When the system let's you down.
Chews you up, spits you out and leaves you with a frown. 
Talk about it. 
When the mould doesn't fit. 
Talk about it. 
Ask a friend to come by and sit.
Talk about it. 
The world does say
And talk about it you may. 
Phone a friend, a brother, a sister, a daughter, a son. 
Away from it do not run. 
Talk about it. 
Or the ladder may never find its way into your pit. 
Call the number, the helpline. 
They'll reach out, hopefully give you a lifeline. 
And onto that you must cling. 
Night and morning, even as the birds sing. 
Hold on tight.
Find your fight. 
Talk about it. 
Please, talk about it. 

Self Expression Group Poem

During my most recent hospital stay there was a group called Self Expression where we were given a photo, very similar to this one and asked to write a short piece on it. I opted for a poem, of course!



The water hits the rocks, making a crash.
The salty water causing such a splash.
The sun over the horizon is seen.
The early morning swimmers have already been.
Time here almost stands stilled.
Almost, until the beach has been filled.
There, in the distance, there is a lighthouse shining.
For this is the weather the holiday makers are pining.
Off the rocks people do dive.
The residents of this town surely do thrive.
They are big and fierce, the waves.
And if you search hard enough you will find the caves.
This place is wild and free.
Where else would you want to be?

Wellbeing group poetry

During a recent wellbeing group we wrote some group poetry a line at a time, where only the line before was given for you to continue the poem. What was created were 5 pieces of poetry surprisingly beautiful and they flowed. So I thought I would share them on here for you to enjoy.  

The stars were shining in the dark sky. 
Just before the rain started pouring
there was a glimpse of the summer sun. 
While resting in the grass
I find myself enjoying the summer breeze, 
bringing with it the smell of the sea. 
This reminds me of relaxing, 
feeling my heart stop racing, feeling my breath slow down. 
It was a calming moment. 

Moonlight shadows on the lake, 
cool breeze against the trees. 
Under the tree I admired it's branches
The birds sang sweetly as the sun shone 
The sun was bright and the flowers were in bloom.
But the voice in my head could only scream, 
from the tiredness within me 
keeping me awake.

Tea is comforting,
Tea is how I start my day. 
I like to look out the window at the view. 
The view is beautiful and calming 
But the noise is scary and loud, 
from the scary film. 
I hide alone from the thoughts surrounding me, 
waiting for something. 

There's not a cloud in the sky today. 
The sky is blue, the mood is grey. 
The clouds in the sky, thoughts are floating. 
I admired the sky and wondered if the clouds knew how beautiful they look.
The grass was soft and I laid there for a long time while I dreamed. 
I suddenly woke to the sound of a tractor. 
Spring had finally sprung. 

Man with a tan relaxing in the California sun, 
lazing around and having fun. 
Watching funny films, 
with family and friends 
is time well spent.
Having time to sit and ponder and not be rushed in anything I do today, 
living in the moment, 
living my best life. 
Things were getting clearer at last. 

Dear Church

Dear Church

Dear Church,

My brain is an interesting place to be, 

All that I long for is to be, to feel, free.

OCD is hard to explain but what I call it is the monster in my head.

The monster never sleeps and “do this, do that, or else” he said.

I’m exhausted all the time, but sleep never fixes it. 

All I can see that surrounds me is this deep, dark pit.

The numbers and rituals never leave me alone at peace.

The intrusive thoughts, that I’ve harmed others or others are to come to harm never cease. 

For me it’s not about tidying or cleaning, it’s hidden for me.

For the most part my anxiety, depression and OCD is hard to see. 

It mainly feels like the claws of the monster are ripping my brain to shreds. 

Sometimes there’s a conflict going on, almost like I have 2 heads. 

My anxiety may show when I have a panic attack and the fear gets too much. 

Then there’s the depression which at the moment feels like meds can’t even touch.

What a lot of people won’t ever understand is the self harm.

If you knew exactly what my mind was like, you maybe would see it brings me calm.

I’m sorry if my scars or my ability to hurt myself offend you.

I’m just glad that if they do it’s not something you’ve been through.

It’s also hard to explain my desire to die.

But my mind is a hard place to stay, even for a while. 

Stay in my head for a time and I don’t think you’ll be there long. 

It’s not even somewhere where I feel I belong. 

I hope this helps you just a little bit 

to understand what I go through, it’s very hard and each day takes determination and grit.

But baby steps of progress is still progress. 

10 steps forward and 8 back is not to regress.

It is the right direction, 

I can see on reflection. 

Ask me questions, I don’t care 

If it helps you understand mental health that’s good, 

because you know what? 

Mental illness is not fair. 

There's this place...

There's this place...

There's this place my mind goes to often. 
It's full of darkness, of death, of the want to die. 
When my mind is there concentrating on anything else is an impossible task.
It taints everything with a negative lense.
It's restricting and depressing. 
It tells me that there is no "best is yet to come."
It says that people will be better off without me, that there's no point holding on. 
It removes any amount of hope I may have found.
Sometimes my mind goes there for an hour, sometimes it's weeks or months at a time. 
It thieves me of enjoyment, laughter and fun.
There is things I'm looking forward to but when my mind goes to this place they disappear.
It's a place fill of trouble and empty of all peace.
It fixes my gaze on all things negative and wrong. 
It robs me of all joy and my ability to achieve 'normal' things.
It happens quickly, often without warning. 
It happens in a way that others wouldn't notice, which means it's ever harder to deal with.
It rejects breakthrough, progress and recovery. 
It longs me to stay feeling this way forever. 
It's scared of hope and scared of help.
It messes up my logic, my thought patterns and messes with my beliefs.
Describing it to people is not enough for others to understand.
It feels impossible to stay in this place, but also impossible to escape. 
It makes you feel rejected, alone and unloveable.
And it assumes everything bad that happens is your fault. 
Nothing seems enough, enough to come out the other side or enough to carry on.
Death seems the only answer but even that seems difficult and beyond your capabilities. 
It drains you of energy and you feel exhausted despite often sleeping more. 
It's a dark, dark place, I would wish it on no-one. 
But somehow, in this messed up mind I believe I deserve to feel this bad.
I don't feel brave or strong. I feel like I'm failing. 
Sometimes I even feel like I'm failing at failing as I'm still here. 
Just know this pit is very very deep and I don't feel me or anyone can help me get out. 

Hope - song version

When I first wrote Hope I knew I wanted it to be sung. Thankfully I have very talented friends who can give it a tune and sing it beautifully, and Jess has done just that. It can be listened to on 

https://soundcloud.com/moose1991-1/hope

Hope

Hope

It's in the rising and the setting of the sun.
It's in the love of the three in one. 
It's in the happy days and friendships full of fun. 
It's in the words and thoughts of the wise ones. 

Jesus, hold me near.
Take away my fear.

And I must find a reason, 
And I must find a way.
For on Earth I must stay. 
There is a reason
And there is a way.
I must find the want to be alive 
And say goodbye to the desire to die. 

Jesus, hold me near.
Take away my fear.

It's in the smile and love of the one you don't know. 
It's in His presence during your worst low. 
It's in the journeys and the destinations you will go. 
It's in the seeds grown and the ones yet to sow. 

Jesus, hold me near.
Take away my fear.

And I must find a reason, 
And I must find a way.
For on Earth I must stay. 
There is a reason
And there is a way.
I must find the want to be alive 
And say goodbye to the desire to die. 

It's in the deep and meaningful chats still yet to come. 
It's in the miracles He's already done. 
It's in the fresh crisp air on your morning run.
It's in the victory on the cross that He's already won. 

Jesus, hold me near.
Take away my fear.

And I must find a reason, 
And I must find a way.
For on Earth I must stay. 
There is a reason
And there is a way.
I must find the want to be alive 
And say goodbye to the desire to die. 

He's the hope within the shadows.
The hope within the shadows.

He's the hope in the tough times.
Hope within the rough times.

He's the hope I hold onto
when everything's wrong, 

Stay near, hold me near. 
Take away this crippling fear. 

He's the hope in the tough times,
hope within the rough times
and He holds me near. 


Written by Steph Corris - August/ September 2019

The Reality of God

The Reality of God

When you've never felt so far the reality is that the word says you are always near however far you feel. 

Jesus, in the darkness I pray you are my light. 
Jesus, against depression, anxiety and OCD, equip me for this fight. 

When I can't find the words or headspace to pray the reality is that you know my every need, and just whats on my heart. 

Jesus, in the darkness I pray you are my light. 
Jesus, against depression, anxiety and OCD, equip me for this fight. 

When I can't tangibly feel your presence any more the reality is it's not about a feeling, and you promise never to leave me no matter what I 'feel.'

Jesus, in the darkness I pray you are my light. 
Jesus, against depression, anxiety and OCD, equip me for this fight. 

When I feel unloveable the reality is you sent your son as the biggest gesture of love in all of history. 

Jesus, in the darkness I pray you are my light. 
Jesus, against depression, anxiety and OCD, equip me for this fight. 

When it feels like I'm fighting a losing battle the reality is you have already won the war. 

Jesus, in the darkness I pray you are my light. 
Jesus, against depression, anxiety and OCD, equip me for this fight. 

When it feels like I'm walking on rocky ground the reality is you have been and can be my firm foundation again if I chose you. 

Jesus, in the darkness I pray you are my light. 
Jesus, against depression, anxiety and OCD, equip me for this fight. 

When I feel dirty and scarred, useless to anyone and everyone the reality is you love me as I am, make me white as snow and give me purpose. 

Jesus, in the darkness I pray you are my light. 
Jesus, against depression, anxiety and OCD, equip me for this fight. 

When it feels like when I pick up the Bible to read it's unreadable and un-relatable the reality is your word is the living, breathing gift from you, readable and relatable. 

Jesus, in the darkness I pray you are my light. 
Jesus, against depression, anxiety and OCD, equip me for this fight. 

When my anxiety is sky high and the battle with the anxiety and OCD monster in my head stops me from stepping into church the reality is church is community, is family and is always worth the struggle. 

Jesus, in the darkness I pray you are my light. 
Jesus, against depression, anxiety and OCD, equip me for this fight. 

When life gives me lemons and I don't have the energy to make lemonade the reality is that it's Jesus who is the one who can make beauty out of brokenness. 

Jesus, in the darkness I pray you are my light. 
Jesus, against depression, anxiety and OCD, equip me for this fight. 

When I feel tired beyond what sleep can fix the reality is that God is the one who can recharge and refresh me. 

Jesus, in the darkness I pray you are my light. 
Jesus, against depression, anxiety and OCD, equip me for this fight. 

When all hope seems lost and tomorrow seems full of fear and doubt the reality is that Jesus is the hope of the world, pouring out hope to his children. 

Jesus, in the darkness I pray you are my light. 
Jesus, against depression, anxiety and OCD, equip me for this fight. 

When it feels like the darkness is all consuming and I'm not equipped for the fight the reality is Jesus is the light and the one who not only equips me for the fight but sticks by my side in every high and every low. 

Jesus, in the darkness I pray you are my light. 
Jesus, against depression, anxiety and OCD, equip me for this fight. 


Written by Steph Corris - 25th August 2019

28

28

28 is drawing near,

and yes I am completley full of fear.

27 has been hard,

actually that’s the understatement of the year. 

How can I celebrate a year more? 

When every single breath is such a chore. 

26 & 27 were bad enough.

How can I be hopeful for 28? 

28, I want to scream “come at me.” 

All I long for is for my mind to be free. 

This time I’ll spend my day in hospital.

But it’s been decided here is safe. 

With the fear of facing another year, like this. 

If I go now, I’m nothing you’ll miss. 

My chest is tight with anxiety 

And my mind full of intrusive thoughts.

If 28 can’t teach me to control this mess

Then I’ll make heaven my permanent address

I cannot deal with another year of torment.

The stuff my mind puts me through on the daily.

You couldn’t even make this up

I’m constantly telling the monster in my head to “shut up.” 

If growing older has taught me anything 

It’s taught me that life is tough 

But ultimately I’m slowly learning that I am too. 

Inspired by Brooke, Maddi, Tracy, Perry, Tori, Debs - my psych ward crew. 

I’m holding onto a thread of hope. 

Clinging on with just my little finger. 

Some days it feels enough to get me to 28.

Other days I just can’t get past the next calendar date. 

28, oh you fill me with terror. 

28, I’m so scared of what you’ll throw at me. 

27 has been tougher than tough

28, I beg you, please, give me a new lease of life. 

28, please give me freedom, peace of mind and hope. 

Just a little more hope.

28, please, please, please save me from my own mind. 

28, even if I just whisper “come at me”

Please let that be enough.

I don’t have enough fight and I don’t have enough energy to shout. 

Please let the whisper be enough, 28. 

28, Thursday, I will get through this. I must.