Breathe in
A shallow gentle wave,
Try to anchor, be calm, be brave.
Breathe out
And feel warmth from the sun,
Focus now, don’t come undone.

Be present
But the past returns,
Heart starts racing,
Acid burns.
I try to feel the chair, the floor,
But memories intrude once more.

How hard it is to sit and stay,

Inside the truth, not drift away.
My thoughts still beg to just appease,

Deny myself, to aim to please.

Hateful thoughts now scream and shout,

But with each breath I’m breaking out.
It hurts. It's hard. I shake. I cry.

But I am learning not to lie.
To feel is not a fatal flaw,

Breathe in, breathe out
Just try once more.

My lungs forget what they should know,

To take in air, then let it go.
Each breath in, a ragged gasp,
Each breath out, I beg my last.

Not fight or flight
But frozen still,
Being forced against my will.
But still I breathe, through panic's grip,
Breathe in, breathe out each shallow sip.

I fold my hands beneath the table, knees

Trembling with the weight I cannot speak,

Storms rage, waves crash, wars ******,
My body worn and weak.

My mother speaks,
Sharp words spitting from forked tongue.
She touches me. I freeze again,
Survival has begun.

That overpowering perfume chokes,
And steals the air I breathe,
I’m a child again,
Helpless, afraid.
Too late, the trigger’s squeezed.


I’m trying still to play my part,
Dutiful, compliant role.

But every word that’s fired
Burns skin,
Carves through my soul.

Eyes ache and throb,
A salty sting,
From lack of sleep and gin.

Each drink a veil,
A sip of strength,
To keep the shadows in.

I yearn to leave,
To shrink, dissolve.

To skip the part where I revolve,
Around the needs of all but mine,

To vanish, quietly, into time.

But leaving would confirm the lie,
That I’m ungrateful, wouldn’t try.

So I stay,
I play my part and swallow down my plea,
Keeping up the show we’re in
Hoping no one’s watching me.

They’ll see a woman warm and wild,

A sister, auntie, mother’s child,

Not the broken thing beneath the skin,

The war I fight to hold it in.

So here I am, with glass in hand,
With those who’ll never understand,

Smiling hard until I’m through,
Surrounded, but alone, with you.

I have to see them,
though enslaved in rusted chains.
Clinking quietly,
Cold with dread,
Mind so etched in pain.


I have to greet them,
in that practiced way -
Unchanged, rehearsed, untrue.

How don’t they see the child who died
,
When they did what no one knew?

I burn beneath my frozen skin,
a war of guilt and duty dressed as care.

They call it love,
But love would not begin to smother me with shame and leave me there.

I can’t not go -
Though every cell protests
My presence their request.
I cannot leave -
They'll grieve,
For them, not me,
It's always been the same.

But to see them is to bleed to death - in fearful silence still.

I stand between two fires, both against my will.

There’s no escape.
I have no voice.
I brace myself to burn.
I’m just a guest, 
unheard, disturbed,
And I will never learn.

A weekend planned,
A script to play,
And I must act,
No choice.
No say.

The table set with rigid fear,
Control disguised as birthday cheer.
She chose the meals, the drinks, the place.
Expects a smile worn on my face.

They call it love, this brittle hand,
But freedom's not what she demands.
It’s presence first, performance too.
And silence when it’s hurting you.

Because to say ‘this isn’t me’
Would shatter the pretence they see.
No choices left, not even small.
Not food, not voice, not will at all.

But still I’ll go,
I always do,
Guilt screams too loud, for me not to.
And when I cry once they’re asleep,
It’s just another promise to keep.

My freedom would feel worse than pain,
So I return, again, again.
A party guest without a say,
Just hoping I survive the day.

I hold this weight with trembling hands,
Strength I crave but can’t command.
The smile, the jokes, the gentle care,
All load upon the mask I wear.

I try and hold a steady light,
Fading slowly into nights,
Where storms then howl in empty space,
Darkness released to show its face.

Reflecting then the roles I play;
A mum who’s failing day by day,
A wife who loves but loses track,
The friend who tries but can’t give back.

At work, I chase a phantom bar,
Perfection’s glow always too far.
My hands are full, yet still I find,
The overwhelm, falling behind.

Now help has come, I’ve said the word,
Let out the truth I barely heard.
But healing is another task,
Another burden, another mask.

What if I’m too tired to mend?
Too worn to break and try again?
What if this help - now raw and real,
Is proof I’ll never truly heal?

But a whisper, faint, behind the doubt,
You showed up tired, but you spoke out.
And maybe that is strength enough,
Not flawless, fearless, proud, or tough.

But honest still, in quiet pain,
Letting go, hope not in vain.
Maybe enough, just as you are.
A glimmer still, beneath the scar.

Must try and rest and breathe it in,
Not every battle needs to win.
Some days enough is just to be.
Still standing,
Still trying,
Still
….me.

Space.
There is one that is safe,
Where thoughts are held,
Emotions felt,
A sacred, grateful place.

Here.
I am not fine.
But do not have to hide,
My torment into silence,
Or the shame and fear I twine.

Place.
This breath between the storms I’ll sit,
I’ll try and hold them still.
The tides will surge inside myself,
But I must try to heal.

Time.
I’ll try untie the knots,
Share the pain I’ve held alone.

Hope.
That I will ride the waves,
Not be overwhelmed or drown.

Peace.
May not be out of reach,
And maybe visit me.
If I can forget all I’ve known,
I’ll finally be free.

I leave her there, in that quiet room.
A child, buried, too dark to bloom.
I know no tears or words she’ll share.
Clenching silence like her bear.

The door clicks shut. I walk away,
Pretending I can face the day.
Forgotten? No, but flinched in fear.
Cries unyielding, I can hear.

She sobs where memory wraps her tight,
I want to say, ‘You’ll be alright’.
But I’d be lying, would not be fair,
The weight of hope I can't repair.

Between the sessions, life resumes,
With lists and masks and open wounds.
How do I smile? What do I say?
When shards of me are locked away.

I want to break the rules and run,
Unpick the threads of mess I’ve spun.
To try and be her strength within,
But therapy has walls built in.

I know the work is slow and steep,
I climb with wounds that breathe and bleed,
I leave her there, it’s what we need.
But we don’t know what healing means.

Still learning how to bring her home.
One day, perhaps, I’ll hold her close,
And teach her that she has the right,
To stay with me, and see the light.

Until then, I remain defiled,
Failing, still, that inner child.