slow and unsteady
Sometimes anxiety seems an old friend to me. Someone who comes to stay for a while, usually whenever I go through big life changes. Break-ups. Graduations. Etc.
We fall into our old habits, we two–Anxiety and me. Don’t really eat much. Collapse, exhausted, after walking around with diluted pulses and fuzzy limbs all day, only to wake with a start, remembering “Yes, this. This is real. This is still here.”
And what can I do? I try to be honest, follow my heart. Be open with others. Talk for endless hours with friends and think that I am making the right decisions, but you never know, do you? You just never know.
Everything was rushing, madly, frantically, and I tried to slow it down, but now it’s just stopped. Just like that. And what can I do now, really? I’m all out of sorry. Out of steam, too, just little whisps of hope left. Hopes like: please don’t meet somebody else. Hopes like: please don’t forget what we said.
In the meantime…well, things have slowed down again. So I sit around my apartment. I walk to work. I buy a bottle of wine. Meet a friend on a park bench.
Try to breathe.