I didn’t want to write today.

Rolling out of bed, I am eager to create an inspiring day –

One where I start the morning lost in a book by Deepak Chopra, drinking a cup of coffee, and eating a fresh breakfast.

Where I later pick up my laptop and curate a lovely blog post, knowing this is what I am meant to do.

I roll out my yoga mat and find inner peace as I move gracefully from pose to pose. After practice, I sigh and give thanks.

Instead –

Coffee would take too much time to make, I decide. So, I fill up a glass of water and reach for a poptart before settling in with a book by Deepak Chopra.

I struggle to catch my breath as anxiety rolls through me making me fidget and sigh repeatedly.

I haven’t practiced yoga in four days.

My body is dehydrated from not enough water.

The dog needs to be taken out, but the thought of leaving my apartments makes me shrink farther into my chair.

And I don’t want to write, I don’t want to write, I don’t want to write.

I sigh and climb into the hot water of the shower. Running the washcloth over my face. Struggling to pull in the next breath. Reaching for a gentle body wash instead of a harsh scrub. Forgetting the psoriasis shampoo.

I repeat the words of the post I need to write over and over, because I thought I didn’t want to write, but the words are forcing their way out of me. It is the only way I will catch my breath.


The robe is soft as I pull it around me.

I reach for my laptop.

I can’t remember my password and have to make a new one.

Breathing is a little easier, but anxiety sits heavily on my chest.

My partner takes the dog out and hangs up the clothes.

Breathing is a little easier but will be a struggle as I go through the day.

I hit publish, sigh, and go fill a glass with water.


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