Tag Archives: anxiety

Is It Safe?

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In this spacious present
I can relax, breathe,
recognize that everything is ok.
Why has so much of my time been spent
being educated away from what is here?
Can I unlearn enough
to have the space in my mind
to be truly present?
What would I do with such clarity,
such immense and immediate expansion?
Knowing that I could never shrink back
to what I was before,
is it safe to leave behind what is familiar
transform
and face the adventure before me?

I’ll Keep Praying

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Help me God.
Help me somebody.
I’m feeling lost and alone,
trying to choose my mindset,
but feeling unsure of my direction.
I keep praying for a sign,
something, anything
that will help me to feel confident
that I’m on the right path.
I’m tired of this struggle,
this uncertainty.
I want to move forward,
but I feel incapacitated
by my feelings of terror,
isolation, depression.
I know I need help,
but I don’t know who can help.
I guess I’ll keep praying.

Believe Me

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I wake up in darkness
although the sun is out.
It’s the same old familiar feeling
of uncertainty for the future,
shaming myself
for not having it all figured out by now.
Then Grace steps in and speaks
gently and lovingly to me:
Sweetheart, relax.
Just breathe.
Everything will be revealed
in the proper time, space and sequence.
Your job is to stay open
to this process of shedding the old
so that you can receive the new.
Believe me, it’s worth it.

Conversations With My Mind #1: Breathe and Rest

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Oh my mind,
why so sour today?
You’d be sour, too,
if you were expected
to figure this mess out.

You don’t have to figure this out.
Who told you that you did?
Well, you aren’t figuring it out yourself,
and someone has to do it.

Oh, sweetheart, just breathe and rest.
There isn’t anything to be figured out.
Just breathe and rest.

My Heart Says

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I show up here
wanting to say something profound.
Something about change,
and surmounting obstacles,
and moving through grief to joy.
And then…blank.
Nothing.
Maybe a little anxiety
about saying the right thing.
I’m caught up in my head again,
so I take a moment
to close my eyes,
drop into my heart,
listen.
My heart says,
Sweetheart, relax.
You don’t need to be good.
You don’t need to be profound.
Just love this body,
and love this mind,
and love this spirit.
Let this love be enough,
for now.

Nothing To Do With Words

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Now it’s the conversation
between the anxious one—
the one who tries so hard to be good
and doesn’t quite believe she’ll ever be good enough,
and the relaxed one—
the one who realizes
it’s all good, and wants the anxious one
to just relax, breathe,
let it go, let life be.
The relaxed one says to the anxious one:
Sweetheart, you’re doing fine.
Just breathe.
Get still.
Close your eyes.
This life is beautiful.
Can you feel it?
I love you.
Can you feel it?
I admire you, respect you, cherish you.
Can you believe it?

And the anxious one replies,
Well…if I could feel and believe all of that,
we wouldn’t be having this conversation,
now would we?

The relaxed one laughs
and gives the anxious one a hug,
and hugs and hugs and hugs
until the anxious one forgets
what she was anxious about.
Sometimes the most important part
of a conversation
has nothing to do with words.

Today Was Enough

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I was thinking
I was going to get more done today
and suddenly
I was paralyzed.
With fear, with anxiety,
with self-criticism.
So, I did what any
self-respecting individual would do
under the circumstances…
I read a book.
The book is called
Living Your Truth
by Kamal Ravikant.
Afterwards,
I felt better.
I took one step,
then another.
I went grocery shopping.
I tidied up the house
a little bit more,
took care of some phone calls
and correspondence.
I breathed.
I remembered to repeat
I love myself.
When the kids got home,
I was calm,
and managed to stay (mostly) calm
through homework.
Dinner was beautiful,
and afterwards,
my kids—of their own accord—
had an art moment!
It was…glorious to see them
happily working away
while I tidied up after dinner.
They’re still making art
and here I am writing this poem.
I was thinking
I was going to get more done today,
but I realize now,
today was enough.