Waking up like sh*t
And getting through it anyway
Going to bed with anxiety is a lot like waking up with it.
There’s a lot of hollowed breathing. My feet, they are tense. Deep-tissue knots unwilling to unwind. They pull me. I clutch the sheet and pull over to the left. When I feel it again, I move to the right. I try breathing.
I can’t breathe.
Out of bed, out the door and out of breath.
Why can’t I breathe?
When I cry in the morning I grab a glass of water. I chug the entire thing down.
I read that somewhere. It helps, I think.
Then the morning cocktail. Eggs, water and coffee. I’m pretty sure I could lose the coffee, but like I’ve said before, f*ck that.
Seriously, f*ck that.
By the end of the morning I finally breathe a little. It only happens when I close my eyes. They shut as I count each breath in and out.
See where my body touches the ground.
Feel the tension in my feet slip away. The deep-tissue knots unwind.
I sill can’t tell if the caffeine fuels my anxiety or helps it. Does the focus make me feel less scattered? Or does it accelerate my racing mind?
I’m not sure.
It’s decaf anyway.