Waking up, my throat felt two sizes bigger, with no air movement in my left nostril and only 20% breathing capacity in my right. The dilemma hovered—should I or shouldn’t I? Eight people depended on me, their needs dominating my thoughts. Like facing 4th down with five seconds left and two yards to go, I pondered. The reasons for and against battled within—throw, pass, run. Tick, tock. Decide.
Canceling felt wrong, yet so did proceeding. The tension lingered even after eight messages were sent, and my day cleared. This unease persisted, speaking for me to Dave when he asked what we needed at the grocery store, “I don’t know,” I said curtly. The compassionate me inside felt betrayed. Who was this alter aggravated self?
As evening falls, little changes. I’m withdrawn and vulnerable, fearing a wrong move that could spark the fall of all that is good.
Then it vanishes. The worry lifts, leaving me casually seated in an idle car in front of Dairy Freeze. It’s okay—I’m not worried.
The dizzy head feeling, overwhelm, and the do-or-die mentality fade away. I contemplate if being a therapist worsens things—do clients’ stories infiltrate my psyche, dormant until they hatch on a day like today? Or am I better for it? The lessons, teachings, and stories create confidence and competence, nurturing deep relationships.
Maybe it’s a mixture of both.
Our burgers are almost ready; I’ll put my phone down, take a sip of our shared hot fudge sundae, and prepare for the drive to the ocean.
I hope you had a lovely day.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 