Beautifully Broken

    Here's a poem I literally just wrote, mmm maybe, 10 minutes ago. I wrote it in less than 5 minutes or so. Usually I wait to post things until I've edited it a lot or let it sit and marinate a bit but I decided that today I would let there be something beautiful about the raw truth and imperfection of right now. 

     I was dealing with some anxiety and decided to write this poem. Luckily I've had fewer anxiety attacks now that I have learned how to identify and deal with it as it comes but I had one of those moments where I could feel it dwelling up in me, so I took to ye old typewriter. (Just kidding, I don't own one of those, but I did type everything out on ye new computer nonetheless). 

     If you don't know what anxiety is... look it up, because I don't feel like explaining it. Haha! The majority of people I know think they deal with anxiety, though they don't. But with the insanity of life in this century and the lack of ability or knowledge for people to deal with negative emotion, anxiety is greatly on the rise and you'd probably be surprised by just how many people struggle with it. Having said that, there is a different between being anxious and having anxiety. Also, there is a difference between an anxiety attack and a panic attack. Panic can seem very similar to anxiety because they can come from similar root problems but they are not the same. 

    Many people are pretty ashamed to talk about their negative feelings or admit that they can't handle life all the time. Though I sometimes feel this way too, I think it's a very beautiful thing for people to admit that they don't always have their act together. Honestly, I don't think I ever have my act together, but I think that's part of being beautifully broken. The fact that I can feel so dark sometimes and be so disillusioned and discombobulated but still make my way in this world really is a miracle in itself. So I think this world needs to share more of its personal brokenness. We can't be miraculously healed or heroically rescued if we are never hurt or in need of help and I think that without brokenness we would never see such beautiful redemption. Maybe that's why I don't inherently hate sad movies... huh... Anyway, here's a glimpse of what I feel like sometimes when anxiety strikes its way into my stomach... 

Beautifully Broken

Ready to get out,

Ready to let go,

Ready to leave behind the chains that hold me close.

Over my chest, they press and press as they steal my each and every breath.

Over my heart, my lungs, my breast, the chains pull tighter. They never rest.

And so I hurt inside— I writhe, I wriggle,

Trying to break myself free.

Until I’m hysteric, hilarious, foaming and brittle—

Past the point of no return is where I’m heading.

And I cry and I cry and I cry and I cry and I cry until I can’t keep crying anymore

Because I’ve decided to take a swim in my salt lake of tears where I can bathe in my misery galore.

And it’s dark and it’s dank and it’s full of screeching souls

But I’m tangled up in chains so I don’t mind

But inside me is the metal of the chains I’ve swallowed whole and now they seem to bind me from inside.

And I burp and I belch and the chains come poking out, like the birth of devil spawn inside of me.

And I can’t seem to figure out what the heck I should do because I’ve tried (for so long!) not to set them free.

So I shut down.

Completely.

I learn to live in the dark.

No flashlight, no nightlight, all the light has been set apart.

I am completely bound by darkness, like the death I was born to be

And though nothing makes any sense, in essence I am free.

Finally, I mustn’t answer to anyone I know. I mustn’t answer to anyone at all.

Finally I am capable of nothingness in my head.

If I close my eyes, I might even fall-- 

But it only lasts for one second before I wake up and find myself dead.

Until I'm right back at it and the cycle is starting again.

I might as well let it get the best of me...

A n x i e t y.

Live, Learn, Love, and Leave a Legacy,

Emma