Category Archives: anxiety

You Go Around and Around

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Talking to the point of exhaustion.
Not understanding why you’re not listening.
It makes no sense these voices that are erecting a wall around me.
Why won’t you just let me be free?

This dance is one that takes it slow.
But when it does move fast, I am swept underneath the current.
A two step kind of night.
Where the sky meets the sea in chaotic harmony.

Voices in my head try to pull me away.
They try to confuse me into believing all of them.
Yet, I crave to hear only one voice.
A voice of hope, one that can cut through the darkness.

You’re still not listening to me.
You go around and around.
Playing Marco Polo with my emotions.
Entering into a rhythmic bustle that is busier than being alone.

These voices in my head tell me many things.
They contradict one another.
And they understand that they can win.
They know if I stop, they will take control.

But the truth is I will never stop hoping.
The voice I crave will come.
This test is going to end some day.
If it doesn’t then my whole belief is false.

But the voice has saved me before.
It has shown me love.
For the sword cuts deep, and pursues more than my brain.
It goes and penetrates my heart.

I am made clean every day.
I have a new shot every time I open my eyes.
A rebirth and a second chance.
Continually I fall to my knees and decide to breathe.

So listen to me.
Listen to my words.
Take this to heart.
You will not control me.

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Look Up North

“Cause we never learned to keep our voices down. No, we only learned to shout. So we fight our way in, we fight our way out.” ~Dashboard Confessional

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Our hearts are deciding that the weather is the source of sanity.
A moment suspended in time where getting out of bed is harder than quantum mechanics.
The bed grips us and doesn’t want to let go.
Longing for the sun and longing for a strength to open our eyes today.

A God who has the strength to change this position.
A hope that is carried on the backs of those that have fallen before us.
Equal parts sanity and insecurity determine moods during these days.
Masking the pain we feel with happiness and short sighted  fixes.

Just know to fight.
Fight for your joy, fight for your hope.
Don’t ever let go of the person that God made you to be.
A fight against the wave that comes and knocks you down to your knees.

As one of my favorite songs says, “Everybody gets high, everybody gets low.”
Pick yourself up and know you are worth more than your mind will say.
But remember sometimes it is okay to be alone.
And when those times come don’t go into yourself, look up north.

A prayer for the depressed.
A prayer for the crippling effects of anxiety.
We will fight together; we will win.
Take a hand and raise your fist.
We will win this war.

“Everybody gets high, everybody gets low.” ~Beartooth

Hidden Sunny Demeanor

 

“You lose control when you hold too tight, and turn your head long enough to let it bite. ‘Cause faith left me staring at the ceiling through the night. It’s freaking me out.” ~Copeland

Child Torn Box Girl Eye Hiding Young Boy HoleLightning striking twice.
The tide rolling towards the Midwest.
Tornadoes on the coast.
And fires taking flight in the clouds.

An upside down way of thinking.
A class 2 comet approaching my brain.
Driving home the point that I am better than the parts that have been given to me.
And the through lines that exist exaggerate the need to make sure I make it through the day.

Hello, equal parts water and soul.
A skin and bones kind of problem.
Or maybe it is a dilemma?
Whatever it is, I’ve decided to pray above it.

The wind is picking up.
The howling overtaking my ears.
The need to get up and leave takes over.
And if I come back I hope that the screaming dissipates.

When I can’t figure out the solution and the frustration clouds my judgement,
I decide it is better to fight with anger than with rationale.
Of course that is not the course of action that pleases my biggest fans.
And it surely doesn’t please the Love that has given me the reason to be alive.

I need to accept I can’t be good at everything.
Or even accept that maybe there is something that I actually do well.
Whatever it is, I pray to grasp onto it,
Before the storms go haywire and my head implodes upon this desolate Earth.

The howling takes its toll and then maybe peace will come.
Remember Matt, they like you for you.
Don’t become someone you are not because you don’t feel good enough.
Feelings are fickle and love is a choice, not an over dramatic feeling fueled by Hollywood cameras.

Lightning striking twice.
The tide rolling towards the Midwest.
Tornadoes on the coast.
And fires taking flight to the clouds.

What a ride we’ve been on.
Diving into the clouds, and flying in the ocean.
I am on my knees praying for more than good relationships.
I’m praying that the one relationship that truly matters is strengthened.
For He is what supplies my hidden sunny demeanor.

The Art of Anxiety

“Our hearts, our souls, are shallow empty holes. We sing this anthem for us all…Oh, God we’re so alone. Just close your eyes and sing along…Let’s go. We are the lost souls.”

~Asking Alexandria


It comes upon you with no indication.
A feeling that grips onto your insides like a disease.
It hopes to knock you out.
It hopes to cripple you into your bed.

It is so hard to wake up.
To go about your day.
Moving seems to be a struggle with each passing day.
This bed is now my home…why can’t I let it go.

I extend my hand in front of my face.
I see my fingers are attached to it.
Turning and looking at these digits from all angles.
Wondering if I am capable of using them for something other than this bed.

A palpable depression that fills my room with smoke.
I choke and I cough.
I don’t get up because it is a relief to suffocate.
Until the world falls apart and you realize the day is gone.

I blink once or twice for a couple hours at a time.
I shift my weight to support my unwinding psyche.
My hand in front of my face.
My fingers and hands moving in a grotesque fashion.

A Gothic mindset of ghosts and haunted houses.
Running by sitting.
Thinking by sleeping.
This is the art of anxiety when the weather changes.

Do we feel alive when we try?
Prying and tearing at my insides before giving in.
Too tired to ask God for help.
This is what the art of anxiety feels like when it hits.

A canvas of mediocrity.
A pallet consisting of neutral colors.
The art of anxiety is one of complex minimalism.
Brush strokes that take the whole day to make.

It comes upon you with no indication.
A feeling that grips onto your insides like a disease.
It hopes to knock you out.
It hopes to cripple you into your bed.

But I was wondering…
Would you like a balloon?
It’s red and cute.
Maybe it will take you home?

Turbulence and Plane Rides

Hello. How are you?
I am wondering if it is okay to enter into this interaction?
To be honest and blunt.
To bring out a little bit of the bitter instead of covering it up with the nice?

You walk into a room and glance my way.
Never smiling always in disarray.
No, matter my words only half listening to what I have to say.
I thought we could be over this petty little game?

Snapping words when simple questions are asked.
Glares that come whenever I seem to laugh.
I am not sure you want to play this game,
But here you are deciding to do so for both of us.

Turbulence and plane rides.
Train tracks sputtering along.
Tight turns at high speeds.
Breakneck acceleration on country roads.

Slowing down to scowl.
Merging when to many cars are coming.
Try to be happy even if it isn’t your day.
Jut drive and do your best to stay in a place to pray.

Of course I am not perfect.
I let it get under my skin more than I should.
A bit passive aggressive to a fault.
But don’t worry…I’m working on it.

Hello. How are you?
Is it too much to ask that you understand some facial self control.
Reading you like a book.
But you know…I could be wrong.

Lock and Key

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Sometimes I wonder if it would be better not to live forever.
When death finally takes me to go into nothing.
To find peace in the ending.
Finite and not infinite.

Sometimes I wonder things I shouldn’t.
But I guess that makes me human.
A man.
Flawed, but one day saved.

Sometimes I miss things that would love to find me.
A leech that breaches the edges of my skin.
Sometimes it seems right to give in.
When life feels dull and doing right seems wrong.

Under lock and key is a door to another world.
One where everything I know is flipped.
Where right is left and left is right.
But somehow up is still up and down, down.

The door easily found and the key not hard to find.
To enter is to see differently.
But not necessarily morally.
Sometimes it feels better to be in the dark.

Sometimes I wonder if this is the place where I am meant to be.
Taking refuge in a world that is against what I believe.
Easy, wide, and short.
Quick rewards, and quick thrills.

One that let’s me do all the things my flesh wants to do.
Early expressions with neatly wrapped packages.
Sitting under the lock and decorated with the key.
Oh, God… What is wrong with me?

Sometimes I wonder if it would be better not to live forever.
When death finally takes me to go into nothing.
To find peace in the ending.
Finite and not infinite.

But this feeling usually goes away.
How long it lasts is different day to day.
Sometimes it hurts to stay in the fray.
Especially when you all feel so far away.

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Artwork By: Keighty Rae

Religious Experience (Fireworks)

“I’m just a manic depressive. Toting around my own crown. I’ve got a positive message. Sometimes I can’t get it out.”  ~Brand New

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A religious experience through and through.
With the words of Brand New.
Jesse is singing, “I’m just a manic depressive.” 
Is the truth being told while I watch the fire overhead?

Fireworks explode.
The colors are shown.
I see the reds, whites, and blues,
But it is a different country that I pursue.

Is my world a contradiction that I call my own?
Or is it a search for a place that I think is my home?
A religious experience that isn’t necessarily one I knew.
The difference is, it is a mix of fireworks and Brand New.

I am looking for a color that is my own.
A game played between shades that I already know.
Experience dictating the feelings in my blood.
Spewing out like the sparks that start off small and spread out above my head.

These fireworks are memorizing the sky.
Sparking imagination.
Turning my eyes toward places that I never saw before.
While this music is playing in my head.

A gun shot is just as loud.
A boom like the fire against this night sky.
I am having a religious experience.
Even though I don’t have anyone’s hand.

“I’m just a manic depressive.” Those are the lyrics the song says.
The night a distraction, filled with lights, emotion, music, and religion.
So many colors light up the sky tonight.
So many memories colliding together.

When the music takes you and the scenery is beautiful.
It fills you up and takes you under its wing.
With a taste of wine and the breaking of the bread.
It is a religious experience that I just had.