The coping Chronicles - Part VIII

Breathe.....

There are times I notice it - the knot in my stomach.

But before that there is sense of breathlessness.
The one when ideally my watch should say "Breathe".
Sometimes it does. At the right time.
But when it is that time of breathlessness I don't want to breathe.
I want to scream.
Scream, howl, complain - as if someone, something will hear them.
And make everything right.

But we are all civilized. I want to remain that way.
So I let the knot spread.
Feel my legs losing their strength.
And the cold in my arms and back.
I try to block it all out.
Music - loud, senseless. Or deep, emotional.
Work - interesting, difficult, difficult conversations.

Then the knot floats up.
In my throat.
Touches my eyes.
No I look upset.
I keep it down.
And finally I give in - on the potty seat.

So many potty seats - it is funny how these places are witness to my weakest moments.
Moments when I cry.
Knowing that it is of no use.
Nothing will change.
That knot willl return.