You probably wouldn’t notice looking at me, but I’m not myself. I’m a too-tight rubber band that’s retreated inside, like a fox in the dark of its den. I’m listening too intently. Coiled like an unsprung spring. Cocked and ready.
I’m not tolerating the stress in this moment well.
Nobody is attacking me, and yet I feel attacked. I’m defending, but I think…
What if there’s nothing to defend?
Sometimes our bodies need an intermission. A pause. To be put in check.
I know mine does. Certain mindsets—like thinking the world is out to get me, especially when it’s not true—I need to stare down like a pitcher keeping the runner on base in check.
And maybe it’s not about fixing it right now. Maybe it’s just noticing it—letting the rubber band loosen instead of snapping it back.
So I sit. I breathe. I keep my eye on i
And in that, something softens.
Enough to remember—I’m okay.
Love, Jaclynn