I bring the dog outside into the misty night, carrying with me a ball of tension about the size of a baseball, right under my solar plexus. My anxiety has been acting up lately, though there's objectively not as much to worry about (at least personally) as there was last year.
I remember when I was on chemo, I might have been sad, or exhausted, or worried, or upset, or contemplating what turned out to be my not so eminent demise, but I was definitely not anxious, and I wonder what the hell changed.
Every few steps, the dog looks over her shoulder with a desperate expression, peering into the darkness as if she's being followed, and I'm curious what she's fretting about, too.
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One year ago today: Hot and Cold
Two years ago today: Thanks
Three years ago today: Back and Forth
Nine years ago today: 1-17-08 Who's laughing now?
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