literature

Dear Anxiety

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Literature Text

Dear anxiety,

I went to the psychologist today
and was diagnosed with social anxiety disorder.  
                It all fits:
                the tense muscles,
                the unremitting shyness,
                                the insomnia,
                                the visits from murderers in my nightmares,
                                the indefatigable worry.
                                                I finally understand what my problem is.

                                                                              It's you.


Dear anxiety,

Your poisonous tendrils
wrap themselves around
my panicky, thumping heart
and squeeze it until it almost stops.  
                                If I was ever able to pry them apart,
                                I’m sure they would leave permanent bruises
                                in the ugliest shades of olive and mauve.

                                                                                (Let me go
                                                                                 let me go
                                                                                let me go.)


Dear anxiety,

I have a ten ton weight resting
on my taut, rigid shoulders thanks to you.  
                My heart always knows your presence,
                trembling uncontrollably
                with your mere suggestion.  
                                Thoughts about being negatively judged
                                chase each other throughout my mind and
                                tangle themselves into an intricate, jumbled mess
                                until I don’t know what I am thinking anymore.

                                                                               See what
                                                                             you've done
                                                                                 to me?


Dear anxiety,

I discovered the reason
behind why you’ve stuck
with me all these years.
                You’ve been there for me
                since day one of my existence
                when I was born too early
                and only a pound and a half
                of skinny bones and fragile, discolored flesh.
                                Surrounded by beeping monitors
                                and stabbed with intravenous needles
                                for nine weeks before I could escape the chaos,
                                that is where you first discovered me.

                                                                              Now I'm not
                                                                           so sure I can tell
                                                                              you to leave.


Dear anxiety,

Two years
since I was granted medication
to relieve myself of the burden of you,
I still can’t let you go.
                You’re a constant presence
                in my now peaceful, serene mind,
                tormenting me with vivid hallucinations
                of fear and humiliation like I had once known.
                                You take advantage of my
                                every weak and vulnerable moment.

                                                                               When will you
                                                                                 ever let me
                                                                                    rest in
                                                                                    peace?


Dear anxiety,

I want to walk among the stars
and soar among the heavens
                but you won’t let me.

                                                                                 It's time
                                                                               I've learned
                                                                                   to live
                                                                               without you.
PLEASE DO NOT USE THIS PIECE WITHOUT MY WRITTEN PERMISSION.

This poem was originally intended to be submitted as an entry for =TheLeavesOfMemory's For a Cause contest ([link]) but since I couldn't find anything visual to go with it, I'm going to have to think of something else.

This is purely non-fiction. I was diagnosed with severe Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) and now I'm meeting with a psychologist every week to learn to manage stress and worry.

Studies have come out that babies born prematurely and in the hospital for a long time just after their birth (like me) suffer from high anxiety the rest of their lives.

Well, it's a small price for being able to live.

Telling someone with GAD to "just calm down" is absolutely useless. We know that a lot of the things we're worried about aren't worth stressing over but with anxiety disorders, our worry is unmanageable and interfere with our day-to-day lives. We feel that we have to worry or else we'll be caught completely unprepared if the worst happens.

I hope that through this, you realize that anxiety disorders aren't something made up, a joke, or just some stupid excuse. They are lifelong disorders and certainly aren't able to be fixed in an instant. Even with medication, I struggle with it every day.

To all who have anxiety, this is a tribute to you. Know that at least one person knows what you're going through or what you have gone through. You're definitely not alone. :heart:

EDIT: In the spring of 2010, I realized that Social Anxiety Disorder (SAD) seemed to be a more accurate diagnosis for what I was going through and so I worked with a therapist that specialized in SAD individually and with a social anxiety group. Initially, they rated me a 119 on the Social Anxiety Scale, which is very high to extreme, and by the time the group session was finished, I was a 39,which is considered to be below clinical diagnosis! It's gone up and down since then and it's still not entirely gone but I'm proud to say it's a whole heck of a lot better! =) So in the poem, I changed "generalized anxiety disorder" to "social anxiety disorder" and a few of the GAD symptoms to SAD symptoms.

:icondonotuseplz::iconmyartplz:
© 2009 - 2024 Candela-di-Vita
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Generic-Furry-Artist's avatar

Dear, Anxiety,

Youre like a drug.



your absolute garbage for my health and ruin my life. Having anxiety is a curse