sueeeus

The tough stay home. Or, in my case, take a sick day. Yesterday revealed to me that I had not actually dealt with the anxiety from days prior, and I found myself once again unable to breathe, and finally ended up sobbing, silently, in the bathroom at work. Not good. And so not me. I know better than to let others and things get to me, yet I don’t do better. Anxiety is a killer. I live with a great deal of stress anyway, but the shortness of breath and sensations of being trapped or caged are new to me. I had to take a day off, to take care of ME. Otherwise, I was heading for an explosion. Regular exercise is an avenue of release that I am desperately in need of. However, an alternate release is… …for me… …a clean house. I’ve spent the last six hours cleaning house. Dusting, sweeping, mopping, swabbing, scouring, polishing, vacuuming, scrubbing, washing, laundering. Although I’m not so fond of the actual cleaning part, I absolutely revel in the results. Clean and orderly surroundings are good for my soul. They soothe me. They comfort me. They help me feel at home. Grounded. Centered. Strong. At peace. Like the old me. Rock on.

Some people want to forget the eighties, but for me, those were the days of vivacity; the days of unstoppable youth! I never was a rock star, but it was fun to dress up and pretend.