You walked the perimeter in slow, cautious steps- Overhanging branches providing protection, along with the morning mist- I felt fortunate to see you, to once again witness your grace and beauty – I wonder if your babies are sleeping nearby, or If you are on a survey mission, assessing whether or not It is safe for them to hop, jump, and play in the damp green grass- Safety is always a concern, I suppose- Even when children are grown, it isn’t easy not to continue feeling the need to keep walking along the perimeter
A tightening in the center of my chest A knot in my gut Breathe A few moments of relief And then with no warning A tightening in the center of my chest A knot in my gut- Add in a little race between my pulse and my thoughts- Breathe deeper Take a drink of water Tell someone how I’m feeling The cycle may continue a little longer but I’m no longer circling it alone
I often speak of writing as a type of therapy. I’m able to get feelings on paper without speaking the words.
I have not written about anxiety and depression in a while. But today was tough. Anxiety was knocking down the door.
If you happen to also be there, you are not alone.
Faint lines evenly divided the morning mist reminding me of the lines on staff paper, waiting for the composer’s song to dot its blank lines and spaces- Or the lines in my journal waiting for words to fill its blank pages
A composition of melody and harmony working through dissonance- A story of life and love acknowledging the roles of grief and loss
I’ve never considered any possible purpose for the morning mist except blurring vision and slowing travel
Perhaps today, it was waiting for me, curious what I would place on its lines and in its spaces
Whether I will allow dissonance to permeate my day, or be peacefully resolved in the ebb and flow of another day