I didn’t ask you to show up, but you’re always trying to shove your way into my space, into my happiness. Waiting to burst in if I allow it. You’re like an opportunistic hunter, stalking your pray and getting the upper hand at the first sign of weakness.
You achieved that a couple days ago. I messed up. I forgot to pick up my weapon I use to fight you. I told myself I’d be fine. It was only two days without my armor. You laughed at this mistake and let yourself in. “Get out. Leave,” I angrily whispered to you. Instead of leaving, you sat down on the couch next to me. Taking over my emotions and words, you yelled at my oldest two for teasing one another. The loud shout scared the toddler who started crying.
“Enough. I’m totally fine and after a couple deep breaths you’re going to get the fuck out of my house.” You didn’t listen. You enjoyed watching me get completely indecisive and flustered about what to make for dinner and needing a few things at the store. You were happy when I snapped at my husband about the dinner choices and then start to cry, feeling overwhelmed. When he came up to give me a supportive hug, giving me some of his strength, I looked over at you with a smile full of bravery and smugness. He told me he would go to the store and suggested I go relax. You began to lose some of your power.
You always try, but you’ll never completely defeat me. Even with my daily shield, I have to sometimes go into battle with you, but you’ll never win. I’m a badass with a badass support system—People who love me and never make me feel bad when I’m spinning out of control on the inside. People who are supportive and don’t shame me for taking something to keep you at bay and going to a professional to talk about you to. These people hold me up and always pull me away from you when I need them to.
I am a wife, mother, daughter, friend, teacher, and writer, but you will never define me,Anxiety. With my people, with my medicine, and with my own courage, I’ll always have the LOUDEST and last word.