Departed

I am both paralyzed and restless, my mind does not stop for fear yet does not move for the same fear that will drag me under.

When I am not gasping for air I breathe deeply, trying to take in some small sign of life and yet my chest is empty.

My skeleton and my conscience weigh me down, the only thing to stop me sinking is my mind that no longer feels part of this world.

My thoughts rush in like an army yet they are fighting for the wrong side, with swords drawn they tear down my remaining walls.

I no longer fear the pain that keeps me alive but I fear myself, when will I draw the line, how will I know when to stop?

From my mind, my body, my thoughts, and my feelings, I am departed.

 

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A Letter to my anxiety

To anxiety/fear,

You leave me vulnerable and bleeding; alone, shaking, begging for relief. I would do anything to be free from you and believe me I’ve tried. You make me feel safe while you silently shrink my world until I am no more than a ball curled up on my bedroom floor.

And what of my dreams? What dreams? Who am I to dream when I am so afraid, too afraid to lift my head and face the day ahead of me. Yes, I am safe, yes I am breathing and yet you leave me breathless and panicked, wanting it all to stop, wanting to breathe no more not one single breath… I have now given you control. Even my mind flees from you desperately dissociating, hiding from my bitter and broken reality, one that I don’t want to exist in.

You have been a part of my life since I was young and I know you will always be with me. This I can accept if maybe you can allow me to catch my breath. I know I will never live a life entirely without fear, but I hope to live one where joy, dreams, and hope coincide. To do that, I acknowledge you and respect you but I also respect myself and I know that you will not continue to control me.

Sincerely,

Sarah

 

With me

He is with me.

When I open my eyes,

When I sleep at night,

When I take the first step outside that leaves me breathless with fear.

 

He is with me.

When I smile

or when I choke

back tears that refuse to fall the way they used to, now that I am numb.

 

He is with me.

When I am a prisoner

in my own home,

unable to do what I love, what I need to survive, to be myself.

 

He is with me.

But I hope for even a second,

that I am with him,

screaming, protesting,

before he thinks to take another prisoner.