Sometimes, when I try to take a deep breath, it feels like it catches in my throat. Like something is physically blocking the air. And I know, with every logical part of my brain and body, that I should know how to breathe. That breathing should be easy. That I shouldn't have to muscle my way through it, to force it, that it shouldn't take any effort at all.
But still I gasp and sigh and yawn and gulp air as of my life depends on it.
Sometimes writing feels the same way. And parenting. And, yknow, life.
I'm feeling stuck lately. Like my life is catching in my throat. I am feeling irrelevant and useless and lonely and outside and just ... Sad.
I know that I'm supposed to be grateful for my life. That I'm supposed to recognize the value of the little everyday things I do. That I just need to remember who I am, that the things I've chosen not to do are okay. That I don't have to live up to anyone else's standards to be good enough.
I know. I know this.