My Stress

I miss the days when I didn’t feel stressed about every little thing.

The days I wouldn't rethink that conversation,

the way I phrased that email, or how I approached a tense situation.

I miss the days that out of nowhere a single word wouldn’t initiate a flight or fight response in my gut;

one that makes me wish the whole word would swallow me alive or stand still enough for me to scream.

One little thing, and I’ll hold onto it for days.

Bubble, bubble, toil, and crumble goes my soul, down and down, spiralling while thinking, feelings I’d rather not.

I miss the days when I didn’t feel stressed about every little thing.

And the days I’m not consumed by my anxieties,

I’m on edge that I will say or do something that will cause the next three days of stress.

But I breathe, even when it feels like I can't. Because I’m learning. I’m learning I can’t hang onto the words of the past because that’s hurting my presence.

I miss the days when I didn’t feel stressed about every little thing.

I’m learning not to be stressed about every little thing. And one day I hope – I’m working to – not be stressed about the little things.