I don’t think I’ll ever be rid
Of that pause before I speak
Or that catch in my throat
Words faulting, voice growing weak.
I’ve come to terms with worry
Of being in a constant state of fear
And the fact I’ll forever overthink:
Every smile becoming a sneer.
But my promise to myself
Is to never let this beat me
To still go out into the crowd
To stop trying to exist discretely.
I vow to push forward, fight back
To not hide myself from society
Because while I might not win each battle
I will win this war with anxiety.
© J. E. Fitzgerald, 26/07/18
A reminder to never give up even when the battle gets tough; you rule your mental health, not the other way around!