I tend to write a lot of poems, as my head tends to exist in rhymes and melodies. When I was first grappling with my anxiety, the Doc said to use a creative outlet to get things out. This then became me filling notebooks with poems about losing my mind, writing frantically for hours until the sun came up. Now that I’ve got things dialed in it’s a little calmer, but I still have poems pop into my head all the time; showers and long walks are a breeding ground for them.
This came to me yesterday while lollygagging around a thrift store that was very crowded. I was impressed with myself, as old me would have walked right out the second she saw the crowds. We are strong inside.