Worth of a Journal

Anxiety, depression,

An undiagnosed disease.

Hiding under smiles and laughs

So nobody saw me.

Twelve years-old and so confused

By the media displays.

I tried to be just like them

By monitoring my weight.

Three years gone and past;

I found new ways to cope.

Staring down the porcelain bowl

I thought I'd lost all hope.

Finally, it was too much

To keep it all inside.

Confiding in someone I loved

A dear, close friend of mine.

My mother cried in sadness thinking,

"What could I have done?"

But she loved me more than life itself,

And the disease it hadn't won.

I went to see a therapist,

That woman changed my life.

She validated all my thoughts

And hugged me when I cried.

I learned I had bulimia;

A dangerous disease.

Lucky that I had my life,

A small dose of relief.

A long path left to walk;

I found new ways to cope.

Writing down all of my thoughts

Made it a shorter road.

My journal saved my life,

But did not erase the hurt.

Someday I'll let my children read it,

That alone gives it, its worth.

This poem is about: 


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