I held myself tightly under the shower desperately trying to stop myself from shaking as the water soaked my hair and mixed with my tears. I couldn’t feel my arms. I couldn’t stop my legs trembling. I was half tempted to sit on the bath floor and yet desperately wanted to hold myself tightly; rock myself slowly; telling myself over and over again you are safe. You are safe.
I read a story you see. About a person travelling on the road. Another lost soul, struggling. I don’t even know how I came across it. I don’t know why it brought me to tears, but I wanted to scream I get it. I get it more than you know. This person gets it; he never let on.
There is nothing worse than being fine, and suddenly not being fine. It’s scary, it’s tiring. I guess this is what happens when you stop running and start analysing and working on yourself. It’s not an Instagrammable walk in the park; it burns and stings like hell and hits you when you’re least expecting it. I tried for so long to run and run. And now for some reason my legs can’t catch up and I can’t catch my breath. And during the times it hits you, you’re all alone and there is no one there to give you a hug and hold you tightly and whisper that it’s going to be ok. To remind you the shaking will cease, and the tears will stop and you’ll come out of it stronger than you ever thought possible. It’s just you.