BY ELIZABETH ROJAS
Momma do you know what's happening in my head today?
Do you know how tired my mind is from running marathons with my heart?
Do you feel the panic I feel when this fight or flight response takes over my body without warning me at all?
This is called anxiety,
And it's something that I suffer,
A cruel act that decides to play with my mind.
I want you to know momma, that this illness is not your fault
My therapist says that anxiety really does affect us all.
Some people are good at acting, and pretending this life is fine,
But momma, I'm no actress, the Oscar is not mine.
I just wish you knew momma, that this "thing" I need to "get over,"
Might be a forever thing, there's no getting over,
A mental illness suffering.
It's comparable to the illnesses doctors say we have,
But there are not cures momma,
Just some good days and some bad.
Momma I hope someday you'll realize
This thing that happens in my head
Is not something to be ashamed of,
Not something you should dread.
I'm telling you this momma,
Because I just want you to know,
I have something called anxiety,
And I'm beginning to let it show.