Sometimes despite how strong I feel, when I get home late at night and it's just me,little bits of me start to turn to dust. I lay in the bathtub to try to relax. And I drop my head beneath the surface of the water, and I hold my breath. And I wait for the warmth to envelope me. I realize the only way to make it through this is to learn to just exist. To just be. That's harder to do that it is to say, though. I burst through the water, gasping for air and I felt tears coming to my eyes. And my chest was shaking.

I realize that it's only hormone related. Or the fact that I haven't decided if I'll call my dad on Sunday for Father's Day. Or how badly I want to only have one job so that I can have time to actually BE.

But my mind still jumps over that line, my heart skips a couple beats and I think "If I could just be smaller..."

(my cats are watching this happen, because they know when I'm sad.)

I curled up in my snuggie and pulled the blankets over my head and wrapped my arms around my pillow and prayed that I'd just make it through the night.

(Then I shouted: DERBY! DERBY! DERBY!)