For those who don't know, I spent the beginning of last summer battling an adrenaline depletion caused by my own anxiety, which until May of last year, I thought was completely normal.
I mean, it was for me, but it's not how other people function.
Thank God, because it always felt like this:
Even when I acted like this:
But, I digress.
I spent last June learning to meditate, going for long walks, cutting out caffeine, trying yoga, limiting screen time for all of us, trying more organic foods, playing the ukulele, and reminding my brain that worrying wouldn't solve anything, that the world is a good place, that not every bruise was a blood clot, not every fever was cancer.
Took a good four months, but eventually I got the hang of it.
Yeah, this is the $#!+ that Alanis Morissette writes songs about - don't you think?
Oh - that fever was cancer? My bad.
And that bruise is a clot? Well, I'll be damned.
Long walks - we don't get farther than the nurses station.
Limiting screen time? Yoda spent so much time on my phone she figured out how to post her own Instagram, edit videos, and navigate our car to Rochester and back.
On the flip side, the practice did some good, the world is still a good place, and I don't want to walk anywhere without Rico anyway, so I guess we'll be ok.