The Anxious Book Worm

She carries the weight of others,
She rarely lets them see her own.

She smiles when her world feels heavy,
She says, “I’m fine.”
She hopes nobody asks twice.

She is brave,
She is tired,
She is both at the very same time.

She has lost parts of herself
to operating theatres,
to scars that only she remembers tracing,
to a body that rewrote its own story.

She has learned that grief
can come from losing something
you never expected to have to say goodbye to.

She walks through menopause
long before she imagined she would,
She mourns the woman she was,
She is slowly discovering
the woman she is becoming.

She battles anxiety
that whispers lies in the quiet,
She knows depression
can make even getting out of bed
feel like climbing mountains,
She climbs them anyway.

She has loved the same boy
since they were teenagers,
She watched him become
the man she always knew he would be,
She watched him become her home,
She has been carried
when she could no longer carry herself,
She has borrowed his strength
until she found her own again,
She hopes he knows
that saving someone
is often done
in a thousand quiet moments,
not one grand gesture.

She works harder than most will ever know,
She shoulders responsibility
as though it were simply expected,
She fixes problems
before they become disasters,
She worries long after
everyone else has gone home.

She pours coffee
before she pours into herself,
She finds peace in books,
She fills journals
with birds and memories,
She disappears
into campervan adventures,
She finds beauty
in quiet mornings,
She dreams of workshops,
of countryside skies,
of places where life
feels just a little slower.

She creates with her hands
because making something beautiful
helps mend the things
that cannot be seen.

She writes stories,
She writes poems,
She hopes that somewhere,
someone feels
a little less alone
because of them.

She loved a little Cavalier called Millie,
She didn’t know a heart
could keep beating
after part of it was gone.

She still listens
for tiny footsteps
that no longer echo through the house,
She still smiles
when she remembers
the happiness wrapped up
in a wagging tail,
She knows love doesn’t end
just because goodbye arrives.

She loves deeply,
She forgives too easily,
She trusts too much,
She overthinks everything,
She apologises for things
that were never hers to carry.

She laughs loudly,
She cries quietly,
She notices birdsong
before traffic,
She believes adventures are better
with coffee
and someone she loves beside her.

She is stubborn,
She is soft,
She is wonderfully imperfect.

She has been broken,
She has bent,
She has doubted herself
more times
than anyone could count,
She has never stopped
getting back up.

She is stronger
than she believes,
She is kinder
than she realises,
She is braver
than she gives herself
credit for.

She is your mum.

She is your sister.

She is your wife.

She is your daughter.

She is your friend.

She is the woman
who says she’s okay.

She is the one
who keeps everyone else afloat
while quietly learning
not to drown.

She is the smile
that hides exhaustion.

She is the strength
that nobody thinks to ask about.

She is the woman
who keeps getting back up.

She is closer than you think.

She is me.