ON THE WORST DAYS,
I sit and sob so hard my jaw aches and my pillow is soaked through with tears.
I cry with such intensity I no longer breathe or make a sound.
Anxiety grips at my stomach and anchors me to the furthest corner of my bed, the safest place I can understand.
Irrational, illogical, lonely.
Maybe it was being too busy for too long. Stress and pressure and crowds and hours building up with no respite, no release. The painful, tiring, tearing away from a relationship that broke apart an already fragile sense of self.
The tenderness and exposed wounds in starting again.
And the exhausting attempts to seem OK. Keep smiling. Keep scrolling.
Now, when someone asks ‘how are you?’ I answer truthfully. Not so good today.
Sometimes their honesty reaches back across the space between us.
And little by little, in this city of eight million people, we don’t feel so alone.