It’s a privilege,
To be told just a part of your story.
You entered the room and my life.
You let me in with no holds barred.
You told me where it hurt,
And I was the one who truly listened.
You left, less encumbered,
And with a light to carry you
Through the darkness.
My door and my heart are open;
You’re welcome to return.
If the story needs a listener, I’m here.

I’ve been on a train of anxiety.
I’m not sure when I stepped on board
or how long I was on it.
All I know is I got to a point
where my mind and body both said
“Stop this train, I want to get off”.
That sudden halt, the screech of the brakes…
I was standing but then I was floored.

I think I crawled off the train
and right now I’m lying on the platform.
People are knocking on the windows saying,
“Get back on, this is the only way
you can really get to where you’re going,”
rushing me towards somewhere.
But if I walk, I can enjoy it and take in so much more.
I can still get to where I need to be,
it might just take me a bit longer to get there.

Luckily I have the option to walk
and a handful of people who really care
and support me along the way.
But there’s still a voice in my head
that occasionally says "you couldn’t handle the train",
so many other people can.
I think I know, somewhere deep down,
that I’m not them and they might get off
somewhere down the line too
…Or maybe they’re riding a different train.