I make people uncomfortable.

I make people squirm.

I remind people of those dark corners of themselves they’d like to forget.

I make people angry at ME, displacing their anger because they have unresolved issues within themselves.

I make people feel guilty that they haven’t done enough to keep me off their property, away from their loved ones.

I make people feel like shit

and then make them question whatever happiness they do find

                 because they’re afraid it’s some cruel joke.

I inhabit your body as a host

until you forget where I end and you begin.


© Jennifer Basile and A Canvas Of The Minds 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jennifer Basile and A Canvas Of The Minds with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


15 thoughts on “Anxie-ME

    • A little different speed, but felt it fit somehow. Best way I could express the internal and external feelings anxiety elicits.

      • I like the change. And I also think you did an amazing job conveying those feelings from the internal and the external, just as you meant to.

  1. Anxiety is and has been rare for me but I have had the occasional bout so I know how it feels. I really feel for people who get it all the time.

  2. This brings to mind that we’re all lovely creatures, and when we’re not, we’re in some way shoving around the broken pieces of being human until it breaks open a moment, when it all makes sense, and we decide we’re all lovely creatures.

    Oh, that was too esoteric. How about this: I liked this post because it reminds me of that experience of being both uncomfortable in our own skin or being aware that someone else is uncomfortable in their skin. And when the experiences become an acceptance of all the uncomfortableness. Being OK with self, then being OK with others.

    Thank you, I enjoyed this post, and enjoyed the thoughts and feelings that it brought up.

    • Thank you for such a positive spin on this! I’m not sure there is an acceptance of uncomfortableness on all sides surrounding me, but one can hope. I feel anxiety in one sometimes elicits uncomfortableness in others. And that’s in addition to the internal mess.

      So glad to get your read. Glad you enjoyed.

      • Yes, always hope. And we’re all such messes.

        Took me too long, but better late than never, to realize something my Aunt told me, “Life is too short for bad shoes, eliminate the insignificant many and keep the significant [and precious] few.” Whether she meant it or not, it was always a metaphor for people in my mind.

        Anyone who has gotten to a place of acceptance with their own messy selves, accepts the messiness of others, but those people are rare.

        When we’re struggling, being that we’re social animals and sensitive to each other, we feel each others struggle. How people have learned to cope with their struggle, denial, pain, numbing, judgement, avoidance, acceptance, love, etc., is then how they react to someone else struggling.

        Sheesh, this is turning into a long reply and I’m not sure if I’ve veered to far from where you’re coming from…just to say, our struggles are noble and worthwhile endeavors, and what they’re met with is a reflection of the other person’s struggles, not the quality of ourselves.

        • Thanks so much, Dorothy. What an insightful and just-the-right-length response 😉

  3. I’m finally trying to catch up with the blog world after yet another hiatus, and I’m glad I finally popped over to yours here. That business of forgetting “where I end and you begin” is just so spot-on, and is something I was talking about yesterday. I have to pretty much constantly remind myself that I’m NOT my mental illness and vice-versa. Thanks Jennifer.

    • I often need reminders, too. Glad I could provide one of your needed ones! And that we caught up again! Glad to see you on here!

    • Sometimes all there is, is the sigh. Right? But it says so much.

      Thank you.

Comments are closed.