MusingsFromBritt

A look. A phase. A touch.  A tone of voice. A sound. A smell. A joke. Someone standing between you and the door. Anything at all can trigger it.

Tears start to form under the surface, but mostly they’re frozen. Not now. Now theyre white hot, threatening to unravel your very ability to breathe and stand upright.

You fling yourself into the dunkin donuts public restroom, dropping your keys on the grimy floor without a second thought and choke out the first cry, that is more a gasping for air because youre not sure you remember how to breathe. Space and time have become muted, you dont feel safe, and theres a numbness that has passed over you, only allowing you to feel helpless to the wave you have to ride to the end. The tears finally flow, like the dingy faucet thats already been tripped by the sensor 14 times in 2 minutes. It helps, actually— the annoyance of it reminds you of where you are and that your life actually isnt in danger.

Deep breaths. Exhale. Wipe your face. Say to the mirror. You’re. Okay. You’re okay.

Happy Tuesday!

You’re almost late for a meeting.

***you never know what someone else is struggling with. Be kind.