I get you, but I don’t like you.
You came to stabilize my unstable life, but now you’ve taken over. I cannot think without your noise. I name you anxiety, but you are just the non-stop activity of fear in my mind. Hustling around, unable to rest, overdoing every project, triple checking every conversation and endlessly giving up my labour to anyone who might affect my sense of safety (everyone).
All so that we’re not There again. In those years of agony and hatred. Shame, pain and hunger.
And it worked. You got me out, you built this new life.
You won my awards, my career, my industriousness.
Maybe I’ll fail if you leave. Maybe you’re all that is valuable in me – but it’s time for me to rest. The trauma may come whether I’m preparanoid or not. But I just want one dreamless night. One peaceful morning, one afternoon of doing nothing without being burned by the image that I will lose it all if I don’t perform every minute.
You’ve made me the reliable one, but told me no one else is. You build dependencies and keep getting me taken advantage of.
Not everyone lives with a mind this urgent, and they seem to survive? There are those with much less who still have peace. I cannot be responsible for everything anymore. I’m ready to allow my future to build from the momentum we’ve already gained.
Please let me trust and hope and feel again,
What would we do without each other? I am there in the sound of your own name “Sar-AH.” I’m there in the history of your family. I’m wrapped tightly around your pinky in your anxious profession. And I’ve pushed your creativity up onto the walls around you when you try to escape me.
I’m the cynicism that drives you to change this world. I’m the tray carrying the horrible possibilities of each choice for you to taste. I make you aware of dangers most others couldn’t see coming. Surely you see my power? We have survived the worst because I saw a way to work our way out of it.
Now you say you don’t need me, that we’re fine and safe. I barely believe you. I can keep going on about all the dangers of right now in this moment, and you would listen like a child – learning and believing.
But I see you are stronger. I see you are older and more powerful. Mostly, I see that you see it. That you can tell the truth of who you are even when people say otherwise. That you don’t need the stability that was taken from you too early. You’ve eaten that suffering and turned it into resolve. You’ve outgrown the mold I cast to keep us in shape, and I believe that you will continue to do what you need without the fire of fear to chase you.
Thank you for listening to me for so long and for being able to act to protect yourself from the dangers I’ve warned of.
I will give you space,