These past two years I’ve experienced some really crippling anxiety. Three trips to the ER, in those moments I thought I’d maybe never get back to a grounded place. it felt as if I wasn’t tied to the earth anymore, everything around me was unstable and I thought I’d rather die than fight through it. Right now I’m on the other side. There are scary moments where I think I’ll fall through the cracks again.
I want to show you something
I want to unfold the creases
can you bear with me?
I want to show you something that’s unpretty and tangled
something that’s sometimes
some daysmeon late afternoons in winteron sunday morningsit’s an unpleasant gold
a disturbing light that illuminates dust tunnels
maybe orange, maybe rust, maybe burnt
you know when happy feels dark?
when comfort is nauseating?
when flowers are blooming and dead all at once?
now you see,
why I’m never quite rooted
I hop on one foot – not bound to the earth
but swaying in crooked directions
the ground isn’t far from the tip of my nose
but it’s a long way down when I float so unbearably slow
light and un-full of substance
my particles are empty.
they dazzle only shallowly.
I’d never thought I’d lost it all
until the January car ride when the sobs quickly turned to dry heaving
and I couldn’t stop until my body forced itself into sleep
earlier in the day, the waitress flinched at my silent tears
but the dripping refused to cease
I was far far far away, in a bleak and empty placethe hurt was satisfyingthe stitches popped off one by onethe buttons of some temporary suit that had kept the stinging bearableonly part of me remained in reality
I welcomed the tears
their company consistent and predictable
each drop a concentrated version of the mass in my gut
that winter I lost it all
only to come back crawling in the spring.
because there’s something about time that unfolds the kinks