The mornings are the worst. 

Truly the worst.

I wake up and my body is so tight I fear my ligaments will pop if I stand. In those first moments walking feels like a scary endeavor. Each step full of tension as my arms radiate with tension and my breath feels so shallow. Stairs look like mountains and sun rays feels like a weight beating down on me.

My mind is here. Fully aware that I am safe. I’m not running from a lion, the room is not on fire, nor am I waiting to hear if my son survived surgery. But it’s hard not to give in to my body that is saying the world is at war and I’m in the middle of the battlefield in my pajamas. So I close my eyes and cry. 

I thought I was getting better. I really did. I’ve had some moments recently that I will write about to remember. But this morning was especially hard. Especially defeating. Especially painful. When does it get better? When does it go away? 

I feel captive in my own body.

But lucky for me I left some breadcrumbs for this moment. 

I left one here

I even left myself a big chunk of bread here.

And I am thankful for these breadcrumbs. These little pieces I left to remember. The writings remind me that this will end, because I’ve done this before. I read them over and over. It’s crazy how fast I forget. The minute it went away last time I ran back into life with vengeance. Ran into it with open arms ready to make up lost time. And left that PTSD behind. Even when Steve reminds me- this has happened before and it ended, it will end again. I don’t believe him. His words don’t help.

Only mine do.

I left myself breadcrumbs. There is the proof. My own writing. My own voice. I am so thankful for them. 

I have been here before. I also have done the research to understand the WHY. Thanks past self, this is helpful.