If I could talk to your Anxiety

If…and it’s a big IF…I could talk to your Anxiety

I would tell it to shut up for a minute or two.

So that I could tell you to calm down and breathe

because we’re fighting again.

And it’s been an hour ever since

we fought over that single hairpin

you had lost while dressing.

If…(and that’s a one big IF)

your anxiety and I were at your therapist’s

I’d say, “Yes, this whole mess is caused by this illness

who does nothing but mess with everything 

we’ve ever hoped for

ever dreamed of

ever loved.”

“This disease puts me on my knees as I beg for it to please

stop ruining everything

I ever wanted

ever dreamed of

ever loved.”

“This disorder has completely devoured her.

Masticates her delicate sense of self

Swallows her will to fight for tomorrow

And regurgitates into a pool of fear

and loathing

and self-doubt and

and…I don’t know what else anymore.

My eyes are completely sore.”

“Anxiety looms in her doom,

trapping her in a sinister cycle of questioning and questioning and questioning

as I, on the other end, am answering and answering and answering.

And it’s frightening how awfully repetitive this point is in my narrative

where I compromise despite the little lies and how Anxiety gaslights 

my lover that she would never see my truth, my struggle, my pain.

Sometimes I wish she would fight back.

But Anxiety is there messing with her heart. 

Does Anxiety have a heart?

The heart to tell her that ‘hey maybe, you should fight this time around.’ “

I don’t hear any sound.

I have been talking to myself now

Because Anxiety left…along with you. How?

And when did you stop talking to me?

If…(sigh)

If I could talk to your Anxiety

I’d give it a hug first.

To calm it down.

And to calm me down

Because my anger is boiling

And my patience is thinning

And love is so fucking challenging

Oh my darling,

If I could talk to your Anxiety

I’d tell her not to ghost me.

Because I don’t want Anxiety to win you over

and tell you things like

One – “You’ll never be good at what you do.”

Two – “Your friends don’t really care about you.”

Three – “Your mom was right all along”

Four – “You are not THAT strong.

You are WEAK.”

Fuck Anxiety, this creep.

I’d slap your Anxiety before it could open its mouth and tell you that I never loved you.

Because I have.

That I will never love you.

Because I goddamn will.

That you are broken.

Yes, but you will heal.

Despite the cold hard difficult days

when Anxiety reared its ugly head and tempt me to forever leave you

I never did.

Because you’re not the only one living with Anxiety.

I lived with her for months

I ate with her.

I talked to her.

I kissed her.

I slept with her.

I fought with her.

And yes, I left her. But I came back for you.

It has been difficult for me, too.

The push and pull; the baffling unpredictability of it all

The constant thinking: “Am I just overreacting?”

The enumerable circumstances

That made me feel raw and helpless

Because you’re in too deep with Anxiety

Who tells you not to show vulnerability

Because I might use it against you

But did I ever? I wonder,

If Anxiety told you that I’m the enemy

Because I am not: I am a friend.

Anxiety is the fiend.

I guess you don’t see that?

Because Anxiety already coveted

The precious spot I thought I once occupied.

Like a jealous lover, your anxiety is never satisfied.

So it pushed me away.

It pushed us apart.

It broke my heart.  

 (Sigh) I’d break your Anxiety if I could.

But my own anxiety is cautioning me not to fix you.

Because my feelings might be a burden to you.

And that I might cause more harm than good.

 You still have your things in my apartment

But in truth, your Anxiety packed your baggage and already left.

And now I am bereft.

Afflicted with this sickening vice in my heart

Holding my mind hostage to the thought that

I really am alone in this pandemic.

Where are you? I’d like to talk to your Anxiety

And if… and it’s a big if.. your anxiety chooses to talk to me

I’d probably ask a question or say a thing or two:

Such as: “Is it better for me to leave you?

If so, then take care.

Sayonara.

Adieu.”

Well, I do have one request:

Tell your Anxiety that

while living with her wasn’t the best;

There’s always a special place for you

Here in this beating part of my chest.