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

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51 thoughts on “Dear Anxiety,

  1. This was so powerful, Amy..

    I went from feeling grim in the beginning to empowered at the end. Like I always say, any piece of writing that makes you feel what the author felt is a work of art. Great job, and keep your head up! You’re the complete opposite of worthless.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. This is beautiful. This brought me from feeling very sad to feeling VERY… Resiliant, and empowered, and amazing for you. Thank you. This is a beautiful, beautiful ending to a post.

    Liked by 3 people

  3. I probably sound like a broken record but this post was absolutely amazing and for me personally something I think I really needed to hear, thanks for sharing!

    Liked by 3 people

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  5. This gave me chills. Your words mean something. You mean something. You are so important. This things we deal with, these horrors and pains, they’re only prerequisites to our happiness. All the best.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I know I’m just repeating what the others already said, but this was such a stunning and powerful piece of writing. It made me feel (or at least imagine) everything that you must have felt while writing this, and the impact went straight through my heart. Beautifully written and I’m so happy that you realised what a fake friend Mr. Anxiety is.
    Hugs! ❤

    Liked by 1 person

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  9. Amy, this is beautiful. You’re so brave to write about it and share your feeling with all of us. And I’m so so happy that you’re overcoming your fears and you have someone supporting you through it all. Take care dear xx

    Liked by 1 person

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