You married the woman
Who's every bone is riddled
With ever pulsing anxiety.

The woman who insists on asking
The same question a hundred times
"Do I look alright?"
"Are you sure I look alright?"

You married the woman
Who's tolerance for heavy crowds
Is completely non-existent.

The woman who's most comfortable
While lost inside the fetal position
Or hidden beneath dark blankets
While rocking in your loving arms.

But,

You married the woman
Who sews mundane words into
Intricate stanzas; bringing life to paper.

The woman who's scrapped her
Shredded soul and tormented mind
From the pavement of hell a hundred times,
Yet still she believes in God.

You married the woman
Who often has nothing for herself
For she gives her all to help the world.

The woman who will stand tall
As a beacon of hope for those who
Have been devoured by creeping anxiety
Even when she wants to disappear.

You did not marry anxiety.
You married an incredible woman.
Thank you for teaching me that.

-ARI