anxiety

The morning was a heavy thing. The sun was out. It was a bright sun. But the feeling was still heavy. I sat on the chair. The chair was hard. a quiet thing in my chest. a low hum. A low, tired hum. My hands were on my knees. just hands. The feeling was not good. It was not bad. It was just a feeling. It was just there. I just sat with it.

I thought of the fighting. The pushing. The trying to make it go away. The fighting was tired. I was tired. The fighting did not work. The fighting was not a good thing. The feeling was just a fact. Like the sun was a fact. Like the chair was a fact. It was a quiet fact in my chest. The not okay was just there. It was just in the room with me. It was not a monster. It was just a fact. I stopped fighting the fact.

The day was still not a good day. But that was okay. The not okay was just a quiet hum. It was not a storm. It was not a loud noise. It was just that. And that was all. I just sat with it. I breathed. The breathing was a small thing. But it was a thing. And that was enough.