I’ve let you have too many parts of me. I’ve let you steal my joy. I’ve let you take control of my life and leave me with nothing more than agony and pain.
I’ve let you steal the sunshine in my days and replace it with clouds filled with rain. I’ve let you steal my happy song and replace it with a tune I can no longer sing. A song I can no longer bear to listen to. I’ve let you have all my good days and bad.
Anxiety, I’ve let you win far too many times. I’ve let you wear the crown.
It’s a never-ending battle cry with my head and my heart.
The world didn’t always look this scary. I didn’t fear every corner, every turn. But now, everything scares me. Everything rids me with your face.
If you live with anxiety you know this face well. You recognize its presence and dread its return.
All the conversations I’ve had in my head. Conversations that talked me out of any idea or step I could have taken and all the ones I didn’t. All the times I was too afraid to start, too afraid to stop. I’ve let you have all my victories and defeats. I’ve let you win far too many times.
All the tears I’ve cried was you in disguise. All the restless nights. You were there.
I’m praying one-day you leave. I’m praying one-day you give me my strength back. I pray one day I find my pride again, my confidence, my strength.
I pray one-day I look in the mirror and I don’t see you staring back.
Anxiety makes a home out of you, if you let it. I’ve let you make a home out of me. I’ve let you unpack your bags and stay. I’ve let you get too comfortable in my own skin.
But I can’t do that anymore. I can’t let you stay. I can’t give you a home. I can’t be consumed by your poison. I need my life back. I need control again.