I told you about my anxiety

You said

"Get over it".

When I saw boxes around the apartment

And freaked out

In fear of moving,

You said,

Get over it.

When my breathing became rapid

And I began to cry

I said "mom I'm having a panic attack"

You said

"We'll get over it".

When I ended up in hospital

For a suicide attempt

And didn't tell you,

You wondered why.

Mom,

I love you

But,

You see,

Your "get over it" attitude

Is hurting me.

Mental illness is not a bridge I can walk over.

Instead,

It is a river,

I must walk through.

Take my hand,

Mom