Dear Anxiety,

Dear Anxiety,

What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Do you realise you have singlehandedly made me cry more times than any other person? Do you even care?

I remember the day I met you. The Bad Man had just left and then you showed up. You were so nice back then. You kept me out of trouble, made me feel safe, you kept me quiet. You spoke to me so gently, and you said you’d help me get out. Oh I was so glad to have you with me.

But then you started to whisper in my ear as I slept. You showed me all those times The Bad Man hurt me, and you told me it was my fault. If I had just stayed quiet he wouldn’t have hit me. If I were invisible I wouldn’t have been attacked. It was my fault. All my fault.

My friends hated me. My family secretly wanted me dead, it would be easier for them that way. Right? That’s what you said. Everyone I met was out to hurt me. Every fingertip on my skin was a knife to my neck. But you were always there for me, to keep me safe.

I stopped going outside, avoided mirrors, and stopped talking to my family. You told me I deserved every slash across my thighs. That every burn, bloody knuckle, and bruise were the only way to prove my dedication to you. You were my only friend.

But you didn’t count on Love, did you? To be fair, I didn’t see it coming either. I definitely didn’t expect it in the form of an 18 year old boy.

You started whispering as I slept again. He was going to hurt me. He only wanted me for one thing, that’s what The Bad Man  wanted so why would this boy be any different? But you didn’t count on him whispering back. “You’re beautiful”. “I’m so lucky to have you”. “I love you”. You didn’t like that, did you? So you threw a tantrum. And you made me breathless and you made me cry. You made me weak. Yet he still held me close. We fought you for so long and guess what… we won.

You still come and visit me sometimes, but that’s okay because you can’t destroy me anymore. You can’t turn my dreams into twisted flashbacks. You can’t force me to paint my legs with blood. You can’t tell me I’m worthless… because I’m not.

I am worth everything. I am intelligent , beautiful, kind, strong, and I am loved. And there’s not a single fucking thing that you can do about it.

Lots of love, hugs, and kisses

Amy xxx

Can you help?

A good friend of mine needs help. I’m going to get straight to the point here. Both her and her partner have mental and physical issues and they have two children in their care- a young girl and a little boy with Asperger’s. This family is being evicted and, because of the American welfare system, they have nowhere to go.

This is their gofundme page: http://www.gofundme.com/y5d244. Now I’m not asking you to donate, and many of you reading this will not be in the financial position to do so. But we can all help. You could take 3 seconds to reblog this post. Or you could take 5 seconds to go onto this page and share it with your Facebook friends. Anything to raise awareness of their situation.

But if you are financially able to donate, anything will help. $5 is the cost of your daily coffee, could you go without that for one day? $10 is the cost of a pizza, could you go without that for one day?

If you would like to contact the owner of the gofundme page feel free to do so and there you can ask her any questions you wish.

Please do what you can, and thank you very much for reading.