I give myself permission to not make my bed this morning. A packed day to come, I don’t want to get out. I’m scared. Of a lot. I want to numb everything. I can’t. I can’t numb anything, I’m learning.
At 7:20 I’ll get up. I’ll brush my teeth and wash my face. I’ll swallow six pills, but I won’t fluff six pillows. My head is ready to reassume the position at any moment.
I’ll put on my gold glasses. I’ll clean my kitchen, I’ll write my list, I’ll breathe.
I will be okay.