Reclaiming My Truth

I used to shrink beneath their gaze,

Each label they flung a chain to my days.

“Too much,” they murmured, “too scattered, too weak,”

And I folded myself, thinking I was too small and afraid to speak.

Their voices echoed in the hollow of my chest,

Turning my struggles into some twisted jest.

ADHD? Anxiety? A badge of shame,

They wielded stigma, assigning me blame.

But I learned to uncoil, to stand tall and strong despite their ignorance

I rewrote the verse where I was meant to believe I was wrong.

Their words are no ink on my pages; I reclaimed my journey, my guiding light.

They told me to mask, to bend, to conform,

As if healing could thrive in the eye of their storm.

“Get over it,” they’d chide with a sneer,

Their ignorance is loud, their empathy mere.

But I am not a mirror for their skewed reflection,

Nor a canvas for their flawed projection.

Their notions are prisons I choose to deny,

Unlike their knowledge, my truth is as vast as the infinite sky.

Each misstep I take, each stumble, each fall,

It is a mark of the courage to rise after all.

Their whispers can’t bind me; their judgment can’t sting—

My scars are not failures but proof I can sing.

I’ve seen the abyss; I’ve danced on its edge,

I’ve clung to hope when thoughts of ending it all and despair were my only pledge. But the fire within me refused to expire,

Their notions are mere kindling to fuel my desire.

For I’ve found the strength in vulnerability’s name,

To say, “This is me,” unencumbered by shame.

I’ve carved out a voice that won’t be erased,

Their scripts of my worth were no longer embraced.

Let them scoff, let them mock, let them roll their eyes—

Their laughter is a veil for their disguise.

For to truly see, to understand and to feel,

Requires a courage they’ll never unseal.

I’ve walked through the chaos, I’ve tasted the rain,

And I wear my diagnosis like a cloak, not a chain.

Their “normal” was brittle, their standards a lie,

And I soar in the space where their limits can’t fly.

So I no longer cower beneath their decree,

Their notions of “broken” can’t dictate me.

My mental health journey, complex and unique,

It is a symphony, and I’m meant to speak only of it.

I am not their pity, their judgment, their fear,

I am resilient—that’s crystal clear.

I’ve rewritten my story, cast off their disguise—

A phoenix aloft in my honest skies.

Let their misconceptions scatter like sand,

For my truth is unwritten by their trembling, uneducated hand.

I care not for their measure, their praise, or disdain—

I am whole in my wholeness through joy and pain.

I choose what healing means to me,

A path that’s loving, wild, and free.

It’s not perfection I seek, but peace,

Where self-compassion brings sweet release.

No longer do I ask, “Am I enough?”

The question itself is born of their bluff.

I define my worth, my growth, my stride—

I carry my strength like a flame inside.

Each step forward, though jagged, though slow,

It is a testament to how much I know:

That healing’s not linear nor bound to their sight,

It’s a journey I honour, a beacon, my light.

And so, I walk boldly, their voices behind me,

Their notions are mere whispers, and I pay no mind.

For I’ve found my freedom, my self, my reprise—

Unwritten by their hands, I rise, I rise.

And now, with each sunrise, I step into grace,

Embracing the love and light on my face.

In every heartbeat, in every breath I take,

I celebrate the resilience that their chains couldn’t break.

For I am the author of my destiny’s page,

A warrior of spirit, breaking free from their cage.

In the symphony of self, my truth resounds clearly,

Unleashed and unafraid, I rise not without fear but because I choose not to let fear dictate me.