"Chronology of a Failure"

I want to write at least one post - probably more - detailing what the experience of anxiety is like for me. I want to be thorough, though, and I haven't had the time to sit down and really reflect on my words. In the meantime, this poem from 2002 gives some insight into the feelings and conflicts with which I struggle.

Anxiety can feel like I'm running a race, even when I am not going anywhere. It can feel like I'm fleeing something, but I've fallen, so I'm afraid that something will catch me.

Anxiety can feel like I'm weighted with chains. It feels heavy, like it's harder to move with such a burden. Sometimes, it's hard enough just to breathe.

 Anxiety can ruin my sleep. Sometimes I have nightmares so vivid, the next day is a challenge to face.

 Sometimes, it's so overwhelming, nothing seems worthwhile, and I just want to surrender.

 “Chronology of a Failure”
Running, breathing, spinning, falling
It catches up to me
It’s breathing fire down my back
I pray only to be set free
Pulling, twisting, grinding, sighing
I try to destroy the chains
They don’t move, they don’t break
I shudder with the pains
Sleeping, turning, tossing, dreaming
I reach out to the sky
The world around me paints a picture
I’m not there – I wonder why

 Crying, tearing, searing, dying
I just couldn’t compete
The chains surround my empty soul
A testimony to my defeat

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Stages of Grief

  We have big news They announced out of the blue And I joked that they were going to tell use you were dead But while I said it in jest, They did, in fact, tell us you were gone And just like that, I had to process the loss - All the things we had accomplished, all the memories and plans for the future Gone I was heartbroken And angry But no one asked how I felt And no one else seemed to feel the same pain I was told to smile and move on As if your demise was no more noteworthy than a change in the weather As if people weren't spewing venom in your absence Saying you deserved to die And maybe you should've been gone a long time ago But I did as I was told As I always do While trying to honor your legacy I pondered how to move on without you And eventually the pain dulled And the bleeding stopped But sometimes I remember Everything that was lost And how I was denied a chance to mourn And I cry again In secret Alone
Read more

Little Red Lines

  Little red lines, Run far and free. Be a river whisking me to heaven; Let me drown in your life-giving force. Little red lines, Connect my scattered dots. Trace lines along this battered vessel; Shadow its empty hollows. Little red lines, Mingle with the air. After all, you are fed by oxygen, Though it no longer sustains me. Little red lines, Make my vision rosy. Paint the external world a vibrant hue; Leave me a sight to be seen. Little red lines, Take my breath away. Pour my soul into the earth And return me to my peaceful home. Little red lines, Be my map on this journey. Guide me to my destination; Outline my path along the way. -November 22, 2007- Sometimes I wish I had acted in 2007 instead of simply writing. Then I wouldn't be here, in the middle of this mess. I wouldn't be struggling with the pain, the isolation, the fear, and the questions surrounding a global pandemic. I wouldn't be wondering why inconvenience is a more powerful motivator than compassion for som...
Read more

"Two-faced"

When looking for the poem in my previous post, I sifted through many other works written in high school. In some, the intention was very clear. In others, I had to consider the date and context to tease out the meaning. Such was the case for the following poem. Before I share the work, I'd like to provide some background. I was fairly lucky when it came to my high school class. It wasn't the stereotypical situation in which popular girls picked on everyone else. Yes, there were "cool girls," and if you weren't friends with them, you wouldn't be invited to their parties. If you sat next to them in class, however, they were usually rather friendly. Also, to be fair, they weren't invited to the parties my friends threw, either. I'd say our class was made up more of "friend groups" than "cliques." There were some exceptions, but as a whole, everyone was pretty nice. And yet, I was still bullied in high school. I'm sure this is ...
Read more