Fresh start | A Guest Story on TheMindClan

Fresh start

This poem tries to put into words the seemingly invisible struggles of those battling an anxiety disorder. I write this, thinking about a close friend, with whom I would have weekly check ins once we moved to different cities. In wildly different walks of life, professionally, we both were united in our experience of being human and feeling things too much at times.
Trigger Warning:
Mentions of battling an anxiety disorder.

I wake up each day, thinking this time it would be different

That this time, for once, I wouldn’t have my mid-week meltdown

That I wouldn’t call in sick when really, it’s my mind that’s ailing

That it isn’t the flu, it’s my anxiety

That this is not a disease, but a disorder

Which orders me into this cycle of hiding, fighting and failing

Falling flat on my face and dignity

On the pillow, muffling my sobs

Each time I stay in, give in and sleep it off

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But then, there are small victories

Strewn apart, like wildflowers on dank crevices

Maybe this time it wouldn’t be so different

Maybe I would still have my midweek-meltdown

Maybe this time it would be different, but just a little

And that’s okay, for now

Recovery is not a race, lapses are not relapse

Your life wouldn’t start afresh

But it wouldn’t end this way either

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