I feel the way I think people with claustrophobia must feel. My chest tightens. Breathing takes thought. The world around me looks surreal. I concentrate to keep myself from breaking into tiny shards of myself. I feel this way not when faced with an elevator or a room with no windows, but when I open eyes in the morning and am faced with life. Nearly every second of the day I feel this way. And I think, "This is crazy. Surely this can't be. Surely none of this real." And many times a day I realize that, yes, it is real. This is it. This is life now. My life is a tight space. I can't breathe in it. And sometimes, I don't even want to.
So I live each day, telling myself that really breathing is not optional and I need to just do it. So I do. And lots of people think I am fine. And I am fine. Fine. People can live like this. I can live like this. I have to.
1 comment:
I've been thinking about you the last few days.
I pray for you and your family every day! I'm so sorry that this has happened. Know that I love you guys and we think about you all the time.
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