Ticking therapy stories

kelseywoods uncomfortable poet
Autoplay OFF   •   4 years ago
About an anxiety disorder and my inability to express myself through speech


by kelseywoods

Things happen too fast

The clock behind the therapist ticks Going faster and faster Like my heart Beating out of sync

"How are things?"

I don't know how to respond I don't want her to think the things I think about me I don't want to ruin this I don't want to do this wrong

"Things are fine"

I say this with a tight-lipped smile

This statement is untrue

I can feel the floor coming up to meet me Coming faster and faster With each beat of the clock Ticking and ticking and ticking

She frowns, but I do not see it

I am too busy scratching at my arms At some imagined itch Longing to feel something steady She has that look on her face again Where she feels bad for me

I feel like I only have myself to blame for how I am now

I am something I can't explain

Biting at the skin around my fingernails Picking until it's bleeding out Spilling out Tumbling Like my words in my poetry Unable to describe things aloud

The therapist marks another tick on my sheet

I've developed a new anxiety habit Different from the biting and scratching I'm rocking Back and forth Back and forth To the rhythm of the ticking clock as it speeds up My insides evaportate

"Have you taken the blood test yet?"

I have not Once my father was told I needed it he screamed Until his face was bright red Yelling at me like it would make me not how I am Not how he fears I am

"How is everything?"

Everything is tumbling and spinning The clock is ticking I am ticking Like a bomb about to blow From the weight of the things that are coming upon me Graduation, dances, finals, projects

"That is all the time we have today"

I nod We rise from out chairs I meet my mother in the lobby A silent car ride home

I am not okay

I don't know if I ever will be All I hear is the ticking Ticking Ticking Of that clock

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