the first breath

good sunday morning to you. i'm still using too much sugar in my coffee.

i was awake at three this morning. i know - i should have been asleep, but instead, i wrote for a bit and then wandered down to the beach ... embracing my darkness, entertaining my fears and enjoying the near silence and the feel of the spray on my face.

the birds couldn't sleep, either, it seems. they swooped near, teasing the ground and soaring high again. i have been a bird all weekend, turning over and over my sad stories, tackling topics at dizzying heights, aiming for a soft landing and enjoying the flight.

and this morning, my coffee is hot and sweet, the sun rises through the haze and the darkness has gone, save for a hint here and there - hiding out in the shadowy corners of me - tucked in warmly next to scraps of hope. and of insanity. even knowing it's there,though, i still feel a great pleasure to be alive, awake and present.

i think i'll make breakfast.

and for a little while, i'll sit here, fingers and smile sticky from the syrup ... listening to the sounds of traffic, shivering under my armor and looking for ways to calm this storm raging inside my head.

this mash-up of guilt, regret, stoicism and fear is completely avoidable. i can talk myself into anything, including an elevated state of aloofness. i can choose not to care … but if i've learned anything about choices, it's that this would be a bad one. possibly the worst of all.

and so i fight hard against this willful anaesthesia and move forward into the day with discretion and sensitivity ... and a sense of responsibility for my own happiness. it won't be easy. even for a happy girl like me.

when you've been drowning, the first breath is always the most painful.