I’m Walking In The Dark, So I Count My Breaths Instead
(And With Each Breath Decide I Won’t Take Myself For Granted)
I count my breaths because sometimes that’s all I have. I feel my stomach rise and fall, each inhale and exhale reminding me I’m still here, and yet, sometimes, I still need outside confirmation. It’s a quiet ask that comes on days when I wish my voice was a bit louder, but it isn’t.
It’s where I am, not necessarily where I want to be.
It’s who I am in that moment. It’s a space between my weakest and strongest self when I’m reminded that I’m not strong with a little bit of weak, or weak with a little bit of strong — I’m human with a combination of both.
And that space, it’s fucking hard to breathe in. So I’m left counting my breaths, making sure they’re there, that they’re even, that they bring me closer to the reason my throat is closing in and my stomach is doing turns.
And when the breathing needs assistance, I get on the bus. It picks me up 4 blocks from my apartment and takes me in a straight line down Riverside. In the midst of trees it gives me an escape from all Broadway asks of me. It rids me of the weight of having to know all the answers, of needing to figure out how to best talk to them, of taking myself for granted.
Because I take myself for granted. I expect things of myself that I wouldn’t of anyone else. I expect myself to take it, even when taking it is probably not what I would tell a friend to do. I convince myself that the words and feelings are best kept on Riverside because maybe Broadway can’t handle them.
Except, eventually, the bus turns left and ends up on Broadway. Whether I want it to or not.
I could get off on Riverside, if I needed more time, but eventually I’d have to make that same left.
So I take a deep breath. And when I open my eyes, I realize I’m breathing evenly and still in bed. I’ve just traveled all of New York, through the nooks and crannies of every important relationship I’m in, and my body hasn’t moved from under my Target comforter. There’s a vibration next to my arm and a 7:22am text on my phone that reads, “Happy Friday!” because, yeah, we made it this far.
And today’s steps are for me.
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I’m the founder of toodamnyoung.com. You can find me talking about mental health, grief and work-life on Living Vulnerably: https://medium.com/living-vulnerably
I also host Creating Espacios, podcast for the next generation of Latina trailblazers.
Follow along as I condense essays into 140 characters: https://twitter.com/vivnunez
