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.