Sick to my stomach, an unfamiliar tightness in my throat emerges. I’m sure my body is telling me something, reminding me I need to feel. But what feeling manifests as a queasy stomach? Disgust? Grief? Sadness? Anxiety? It could be any of those.
Focus evades me. I know I’m not bored because I’m rarely capable of boredom. I’m just . . . not here. But not really anywhere. No thoughts. Catatonic.
With eyes focused on the moon and the cool breeze caressing my skin I contemplate how small we are. I wonder why we sometimes choose to love unconditionally, even when we know it cannot be reciprocated. I wonder if I’ll ever go all in. So far I haven’t.
I wonder why so many people look at life as a game. Why each choice becomes a wager, a win, a loss. Why we care so much about what others think of us. Why it’s so hard to accept ourselves exactly as we are.
I consider self-care and why it is sometimes so difficult to do what we know we need to do to feel healthy. I wonder if self-sabotage completely ceases if we are able to love ourselves wholly and unconditionally. If it’s possible to sleep when we’re tired, to hydrate and eat only what we need for our body to function at an optimal level, to exercise enough to keep our minds clear and body capable. It sounds so easy but I’ve found it is probably the most difficult part of being human.
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The warm sun on my skin reminds me of the miracle of being alive and helps soothe my emotional hangover. I move a baby bird to the shade of a tree, away from the long grass and approaching lawnmower. For a second I wonder if it is going to hop its way back into danger but remind myself that my path is the only one I can control.