"It’s all in your head"
Just breathe
I hear for the thousandth time
It's all in your head
I feel it in my stomach
The waves of nausea
flow through my body.
I am no longer in control.
Clenched fists, eyes staring out into the distance
acid gnawing at my throat.
For a moment in time,
the waves cease,
and I can finally breathe.
My fists unravel themselves,
and my eyes can focus.
Just when I thought I had a moment to breathe
It’s back.
Take small sips of water.
Don’t focus on it so much.
My mind and stomach do not cooperate.
I nibble on some crackers,
the only thing that has entered my stomach
It all comes back up.
You shouldn’t have eaten.
Liquid fire running up my throat.
I gasp for a breath of air
My stomach convulsing
betraying me.
I can’t.
Try exercising
It should help
Tell that to the used workout clothes
taking up space near my bed.
I glance at my reflection in the mirror.
My red eyes
stare back at me.
Reminding me that I am all alone
A sour taste coats my mouth.
It finally stops.
I call my mom to tell her.
“Again?”
You need to see another doctor.
I sigh.
My blood work is always normal.
“It’s just in your head,” they say.
Trapped within my own mind.
Wanting an answer.
Maybe they’re right.
I don’t have time to think about it.
I head out the door,
a tear rolling down my cheek.
I wipe it away
just as I have done many times before.
I hear for the thousandth time
It's all in your head
I feel it in my stomach
The waves of nausea
flow through my body.
I am no longer in control.
Clenched fists, eyes staring out into the distance
acid gnawing at my throat.
For a moment in time,
the waves cease,
and I can finally breathe.
My fists unravel themselves,
and my eyes can focus.
Just when I thought I had a moment to breathe
It’s back.
Take small sips of water.
Don’t focus on it so much.
My mind and stomach do not cooperate.
I nibble on some crackers,
the only thing that has entered my stomach
It all comes back up.
You shouldn’t have eaten.
Liquid fire running up my throat.
I gasp for a breath of air
My stomach convulsing
betraying me.
I can’t.
Try exercising
It should help
Tell that to the used workout clothes
taking up space near my bed.
I glance at my reflection in the mirror.
My red eyes
stare back at me.
Reminding me that I am all alone
A sour taste coats my mouth.
It finally stops.
I call my mom to tell her.
“Again?”
You need to see another doctor.
I sigh.
My blood work is always normal.
“It’s just in your head,” they say.
Trapped within my own mind.
Wanting an answer.
Maybe they’re right.
I don’t have time to think about it.
I head out the door,
a tear rolling down my cheek.
I wipe it away
just as I have done many times before.