“Efforts of the Butterfly Effect.” Fiction. Based on a True Mental Anguish.

“Addiction isn’t addiction if the addict sees no signs of weakness.”
“Starving for Change”

M.J. Rose

“Efforts of the Butterfly Effect”

Fiction. Based on a True Mental Anguish.

By Dorothy England

This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

Trigger Warning: our program often motivates people to discuss their trauma. If you find yourself feeling overwhelmed, please, take a step back to address emotional flashbacks and trauma before continuing to push yourself. If you are experiencing a medical emergency, call 911 or the National Suicide Hotline at (1-800) 273-8255.

I worry sometimes
About the butterfly effect.
About how
If I ask you for a cup
Of water
Before you leave
While I lie stretched
And sleepy
Across our bed
If I ask you to bring me water
Will these few seconds
Have impact?
Will you then
When driving away,
Will you crash?
I worry sometimes
About the butterfly effect.
About if I don’t text
That woman I find crazy
If I don’t reply back
Will she come looking?
Will she find me for an answer
Whether my voice is in it
Or not?
But I also worry
That if I don’t
Worry
I will lose a sense of control.
A sense of what could be
Of what could crash
Down down
Like a brick
Against my head.
Startling at first
Then painful in the worst way
Dizzying and loud
Like a shot against a crowd.
So that’s why I worry
Why I let my thoughts consume
The grief
The pain
The what – if.
In a way
I suppose
It’s like an addiction
Reigning me in
Covering me with false
Security.
See-cure-it-y?
Why?
I worry sometimes
That if I don’t worry
Then life will surprise me
With cruel glimpses of a single drop
Before the waves wash over.
Before they trip me
To fall
To fail.
But most of
Worst of all
I worry about these worrisome wings
Fluttering
Nearly non-stop
Always with
A heavy drop.
What will these wings
What will they do
To my mind?
What might my doctor
My therapist
Later find?
A scan of memories lost
Because my anxiety scattered them?
A flash of blindness
After years of trying to see what
Wasn’t there?
How do I relieve it?
When I feel I need it?
How do I relieve it?
When it’s the air
I breathe it?
I worry sometimes.
I worry
Some
Times…

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