A draft from a month ago that I never posted because I felt it was too unpolished and cliched. Fuck it. Perfectionism is stifling.

The Viking is currently recovering from surgery, so I had to drive him to work today; he’s not supposed to drive himself, per doctor’s orders. He’s also not supposed to work, but he insisted Stubborn man. He’s not used to doing nothing. I’ve tried to teach him the ways of laziness, but to no avail.

The whole drive to his office I had a huge knot of anxiety in my chest and throat, constricting my breathing. At first, I thought this was because I was driving his humongous truck, when I’m used to diving my tiny little car, but I realized that it was actually because we were driving to the horrible place I used to work, which happens to be the horrible place where the Viking currently works. I felt shaky and lightheaded. I had to remind myself to breathe so I wouldn’t have a panic attack. When I was driving away, I immediately started to feel better.

Emotions like these seem completely irrational on the surface (especially to someone who hasn’t experienced anxiety and depression) but I don’t think that means they are something to be avoided. I think that it is our subconscious mind trying to protect us from something bad. I’m learning to take my emotions seriously, not dismiss them. To look my anxiety and sorrow in the eyes, put a shaking hand on its cheek and say, it will be okay. We’ll make it through, somehow. In the meantime, I’m letting myself feel, whatever that feeling may be. Liberating.