Symmetry in chaos
The below was written in a bit of a slump earlier this year. (Warning, navel gazing ahead).
A poem about my anxiety and drinking.
Written not as a reflection, but in the moment, as it's described.
Respite, if in passing
*The drinking, I've been dealing with since the age of 17. Long story. (I'm currently not drinking).
The anxiety/depression started a lot earlier. (in those days, undiagnosed. It made for difficult teen years). Apologies if this sounds like a whine.We all have our own problems. We have to just get on with it. My book is out and that's something very positive. Yet there are many hours in a day. It's not always easy. Is it ever really?