Around me
The chaos of life
Bubbles forth
Like a babbling brook.
As I struggle
To stay connected
With myself.
Despite
My rising levels
Of anxiety
Reaching towards
A panic attack.
Leaving me
Feeling
Extremely vulnerable.
As people walk by
In the library.
In knowing
It's just my body
Extending
Its hyper-vigilance.
A by-product
Of an abuse past
I'm trying to
Overcome.
Fighting
This growing urge
To runaway
And hide
Inside my apartment.
To do so
Would be admitting
Once again
I have failed.
Refusing
To allow
Any tears of frustration
To grace my face.
As I beat back
The growing sense
Of being
A worthless failure.
Trying to control
My trembling hands
While
Typing this
Out.
In claiming
One small victory
At a steep price.
Therisa © 2016
Author's note: Have been diagnosed, as having living, with chronic depression, various anxiety disorders and PTSD, (I refuse to say, suffering, as I know, these conditions, will be, with me, for the rest of my life) as the result of a very abusive past, growing up, as a child, and later on, as an adult. As part of my healing process, I have taken Cognitive Behaviour Therapy (CBT), at a local hospital, near my apartment. Never realizing, until afterwards, a lot of the stuff, I having doing, on my own, has been CBT techniques, to distract myself, in triggering situations, like the above poem. To analyze, what is causing this reaction, while, in the library.
