I struggle with feeling safe…
[the cursor blinks. i stop and walk to the kitchen to make coffee. mom is sitting quietly at the kitchen table in prayer and surrounded by what appears to be six or seven small devotionals. the kids are still asleep. although exhausted i’m preparing for work, attempting to ignore the anxiety building in my stomach. it feels like something is going to happen; my breathing is shallow; fight or flight mode is present. i want to escape it but can’t; tell myself to take a deep breath, calm down, focus on the cats in play, the smell of light rain lingering in the air; i take a long shower and feel better; i pray it’s enough to get me through the day; i remind myself the emotions aren’t real. i return to writing before forcing presence to the day.]
…I’m safe. I struggle with feeling real.
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