Therapy Bits

Anxiety arrives like a crowded room,
voices overlapping in my chest,
each thought tugging my sleeve,
asking to be believed.

It tells me the future is fragile,
that every step might splinter the ground,
that silence is proof of failure
and breath must be earned.

But I learn a quieter skill: observance—
not judgment, not escape,
just watching the storm without naming it home.
I notice the tremor in my hands,
the quickened pulse,
the way fear exaggerates its own shadow.

In observance, the mind loosens its grip.
Thoughts pass like trains I no longer chase.
I stand on the platform,
feet steady,
heart still loud but no longer in command.

Anxiety shrinks when seen clearly,
when met with patience instead of panic.
I am not the noise;
I am the listener.
And in that space of seeing,
I begin to breathe again.

Observance – Word of the Day Challenge