The morning starts with coffee and the news,
But something crawls beneath my steady breath.
A tremor in my hands I can’t excuse,
This creeping sense of slow, approaching death.The emails pile like soldiers in formation,
Each subject line a battle yet to fight.
My chest constricts with growing aggravation—
The day ahead seems endless in its might.

I tell myself it’s just another Tuesday,
But shadows gather in my peripheral sight.
The world feels tilted, strange, and slightly skewed—
My heart begins its rapid, frightened flight.

The phone rings once and sets my nerves ablaze,
Each ring a siren warning of attack.
I’m drowning in these ordinary days,
There’s no retreat, no turning myself back.

My breathing shallow, vision growing narrow,
The walls begin their slow, insidious creep.
This feeling cuts right through me like an arrow—
The storm has come to wake me from my sleep.

Something’s wrong, I whisper to the air,
The battle’s here, and I’m not prepared.

The panic hits like lightning through my chest,
My rational mind scrambles for control.You’re safe, you’re fine, this feeling isn’t blessed,
But terror tears through body, mind, and soul.

I count my breaths: one, two, three, four, five,
The numbers wage their war against the fear.

I’m going crazy, or I’m still alive—
These contradictions both seem crystal clear.

My hands are shaking, palms are slick with sweat,
I pace the room like caged and cornered prey.

This isn’t real, but real as you can get,
I fight for every breath and every day.

The bathroom mirror shows a stranger’s face,
Eyes wide with panic, skin a pallid white.

I’m losing grip on time and sense of place,
Yet still I stand and still I choose to fight.

My phone becomes a lifeline in my hand,
I dial the numbers of my dearest friend.

„I need you now,” I barely understand
The words I speak, but pray they comprehend.

The voice that answers pulls me from the edge,
A human sound that cuts through mental noise.

„Breathe with me now,” becomes my sacred pledge,
Two people fighting with their mingled voices.

My heartbeat slows from thunder to a drum,
Still racing, but no longer at full speed.

I’m learning how to let the healing come,
To plant instead of panic’s bitter seed.

The worst has passed, though tremors still remain,
We’ve crossed together through the wall of pain.

What if it comes again when I’m alone?
The thought returns like waves upon the shore,
What if next time I can’t pick up the phone?
The thought returns like waves upon the shore.I check my pulse, my breathing, every bone,
My body feels like stranger’s clothing wore.
What if it comes again when I’m alone?
I’m checking locks and checking them once more.

The thought returns like waves upon the shore,
Each worry spawning ten more in its wake.
What if next time I can’t pick up the phone?
I’m questioning which thoughts are real or fake.

My mind’s become a prison that I own,
The thought returns like waves upon the shore.
What if it comes again when I’m alone?

The waves still come, but now I know their name,
I’ve learned to surf instead of being drowned.Anxiety and I now share this claim:
We both exist, but I control the ground.

Some days are hard, and some days I feel free,
The struggle’s real, but so is my own strength.

I’ve built a toolkit for when I can’t see—
I’ll go to any therapeutic length.

My friends know now the battles that I face,
I’m not ashamed to need them when storms rise.

Recovery is not a final place,
But daily choice to see through clearer eyes.

The morning comes with coffee and the news,
But now I breathe and know that I can choose.

My heart still races, but I’ve learned to stay,
To be present with whatever comes my way.

The war’s not over, may not ever be,
But I have won the right to simply breathe.

I am not broken, though I sometimes bend,
I am the warrior and I am the friend.