One recent night I found myself lying in bed with the familiar feeling of anxiety washing over me. My heart raced, and even as I closed my eyes and breathed deeply I could feel the lump creep up and into my throat. This is a common feeling for me, along with the accompanying sensation that I have swallowed a rubber bouncy ball and all of the pressure inside of my core is holding that ball right in back of my throat where no amount of swallowing can dislodge it from its uncomfortable perch.
“I am having a bad night,” I whispered into the darkness. Cory reached over and took my hand in his. At first I felt the squeeze of his fingers. The firmness of his grip comforted me. As I lay there listening to him breath and concentrating on relaxing my own mind and body I occationally wiggle my fingers. Sometimes the most comforting and secure contact can become so much a part of yourself that you no longer recognize it. The wiggling reminds me, and it tells me that I am not alone.
That’s beautifully written. :hug :hug for the anxiety.
You are married to a wonderful man. Love you baby.