The Scanner

I scan.
Not because I want to.
Because I had to.

I learned it in childhood.
Scanning to make sure my mum was still breathing.

I learned it through sexual assault.
Through abuse.
Through relationships.

I learned to notice the pause before the pause.
The invitation that softened.
The door that stopped being held.

I felt withdrawal before it was spoken.
My body knew before my mind caught up.

People call it anxiety.
It isn’t.

It’s pattern recognition built under pressure.
It kept me safe when words arrived too late.

The work now isn’t turning it off.
It’s knowing when it can rest.