Please excuse my anxious heart.
I am sorry it makes you uncomfortable when I need love and reassurance.
Pardon my panics, my palpitations and moments that you perceive as weakness.
No I haven’t found closure, and I get that you “can’t be bothered” with my insecurities and tears.
You know where the door is.
Because there is no cure for what ails me. And do you know what? I wouldn’t take it if there was.
My anxiety is a war wound I have recently learned to wear with pride.
It shows I’m a survivor. It makes me the kind and loving person I am. It gives me empathy and teaches me to treat others with the respect I only wish I’d had.
Because I didn’t bring this on myself. I didn’t choose it.
But I rose above it. I got away, determined to succeed despite a less than happy start.
I thought I’d escaped my past. My anxiety proves I didn’t.
But it proves that I am only human. That despite moving on, getting a career, a family to love, I am still affected inside by that cruel beginning.
It’s an invisible knife to my heart. But it’s opened that heart so wide I will love and protect those who value me with the ferocity of a lioness watching over her cubs.
Yes, please feel free to excuse yourself from my inner circle if I make you uncomfortable, whenever I doubt myself, or need to know I’m valued.
Your lack of understanding shows you’re not worthy of me. Although for a long time I thought it was the other way round.
I thought others were strong while I was weak. But this past year has shown me the survivor inside is still there.
She feels everything acutely. But that’s what makes her special.
That’s what helps me get through the pain. I’ve survived more than you will ever know.
I find it hard to trust, to take people on face value. I need reassurance that you are there for me.
But only because of those who have hurt me in the past. And right now I’m going through divorce, dealing with someone else I trusted letting me down in the worst possible way.
You wouldn’t criticise a retired soldier for ducking at the sound of explosions – even if they turned out to be nothing more than fireworks.
That’s what anxiety is like. As soon as others start to let me down, I fear the worst. All the bad memories return. I start shaking and run for cover.
Reassuring me is a small price to pay for the love and friendship you’ll get in return. Sitting down and listening every now and then will get you a lifetime of devotion. I am worth the trouble.
Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned this year… it’s your loss – not mine.