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