They say beauty fades,
but what they don’t say
is how strength quietly rises
in the spaces where things fall away.

I look in the mirror
and see someone new, 
not less, not broken, 
just true.

My spirit remains.
I’ve learned to smile
through the ache and the change.

This face?
It tells stories now,
of healing, of holding on,
of learning how
to love what the world may overlook.

And slowly, gently,
I do.

Because this is still me.
And that’s more than enough.

Like taking the dogs for a nightly walk.
I was fine all day... or maybe I wasn’t.
Maybe I’ve been pushing too hard,
mind, body, and soul in constant motion.

Now, here I am, frozen.
Hands numb.
Balance off.
Breath shallow.

Maybe this anxiety attack is my body’s cry for mercy,
its way of whispering, ENOUGH ALREADY.

The thing about anxiety is it rarely knocks before entering.
It creeps in, silent and sudden.
A tidal wave of thoughts you didn’t ask for.
Matched with symptoms you didn’t choose.

And suddenly, everything feels too much.