Holding my breath

I’ve been quiet for a few days.
Not everything felt right to share.
But something shifted.
And I’m starting to see it more clearly.

For months, my world was small. Darkness became my sanctuary.
If I woke up at 8, I wasn’t really awake until 10. Around 11, I would get up, shower, eat, and go back to the couch.
Cook. Eat. Shower. Sleep.
That was my rhythm.

I’ve been quiet for a few days.
Not everything felt right to share.
But something shifted.
And I’m starting to see it more clearly

Being in a room with more than one person felt like too much. Light and sound weren’t just there, they were something my body couldn’t carry.

I took my sunglasses and earplugs everywhere. Always prepared.
And when it became too much, 128 hertz was my reset. My way back.

But these last three days were different.

I woke up and the fog was gone. My body felt light. Clear. Almost like it belonged to me again.
I could move, think, exist… without that constant weight.

The moment I noticed it was in a shopping center
Normally, I could last maybe ten minutes before the nausea would take over.
This time, it didn’t come.
I kept walking.
And I realized something had shifted.

For the first time, I could just be in it without paying the inevitable price

It gives me hope.
Not loud hope. Quiet hope.
Hope that I might be able to live my life the way I want to.
Hope on life itself.

But I don’t fully trust it yet

Part of me is still holding my breath.
Waiting. Watching.
Wondering if I crossed a line I can’t see yet.

The fear isn’t just the setback.
It’s the quiet that comes with it.
Not feeling well. Not being able to do anything.
Watching life move, while you stay still.

That kind of loneliness.
Feeling older than you are.

I’m learning to stay with both.
The light and the caution.
The hope and the fear.

I don’t know what tomorrow brings

But these three days were real.
And they are mine.

♡ T∞ts