This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Oswego chapter.
I’ve lived so long with anxiety
I thought its vice gripping me
was part of my flesh and bone.
My confidence a mirage,
my skeleton self-sabotage,
fear became my spine.
When it brought me to my knees
only then could I see:
my anxiety is not me.
I began to take apart
toxic patterns in my heart
woven there so tightly.
I let my actions speak
when my voice was too weak,
and I could not find it.
I learned from my mistakes
and started doing what it takes
to put my mental health first.
I sharpened my body into steel,
self-care into a shield,
so I could stand back on my feet.