Ache.

by Lillian Olson

Anxiety You woke up and the anxiety doesn’t make you squeeze your eyes closed again. You don’t pretend to sleep, though you want to. So badly you want to because if you sleep, the day can’t start. The dreaded day cannot begin. But you open your eyes and they stay open. You keep the panic at bay. Good job, sweetheart, you did an amazing job. That’s all you had to do and you did it. Feel proud, honey. I hope you feel proud of yourself. I’m proud of you. Now relax. — You get out of bed. You almost couldn’t do it because you were so scared of the monsters swarming as soon as you left the safe place. The progress was slow, one motion at a time Sit up, wait for the anxiety to spike then settle. Wrestle with the dread until its dull throbbing. You know how to ignore dull throbbing. One leg moves, the right foot touches the ground. The monsters don’t bite, at least not today. The other foot follows and you are standing. You shower. Good, good job. That is one of the most difficult things, I know. But you did it, you did it. Now relax. That’s all you had to do today. Maybe you’ll get further another day, but for now, that’s all. I am so proud of you. — Today, you might make it out the front door. You woke up, got out of bed, showered and now you are in front of the mirror. It’s okay baby, I don’t expect you to find features you like. That’s for another day. Today, you put on your war paint. Cover your pores so the bad th...