Maybe it’s strategic.
Just enough space to watch from a far, but still close enough to strike. Never more than ten feet away. I can get there in a second.
I am ready to pounce.
I didn’t come up with this theory. I can’t take credit. I’ve heard it now from multiple people close to me including Steve. That maybe my body doesn’t know how to stop being in attack mode. My adrenal glands still on fire. Still putting out fires. Still fighting. And I can’t stop it.
My body doesn’t know how to stop. Stress producing hormones in overdrive.
It makes sense this theory. I have spent the last 2 years fighting for lives. I have spent the last two years waking up to an all-consuming nightmare. And I only know how to fight. I only know how to function when the boat is sinking. When the boat is upright I just sit there looking for holes.
And maybe that is the right way to be given my luck. There is no denying that tomorrow is not promised. Fear that if I let go, something will go awry and I will be back to the “fall.” But this is no way to live.
I tell Steve all of this. That I can’t go back to living life as I’m too scared it will disappear again. He understands what I’m saying, but he can’t relate. For that exact same fear, he enjoys every second. For that exact same reason, he allows no space. He stands right in the now.
And that makes complete sense too.
That sounds like a better plan too.
I want that too.