Through

To co-opt and paraphrase a theater phrase, I’m not even sure this thing’s on anymore. I’ve been journaling, a page or two at a time in whatever color felt-tipped pen makes me feel happiest on a particular day. I’m trying to make it a habit, the way I’m trying to make 10,000 steps a day a habit and more water and meditation and keeping up with the laundry. Those habits, I hope, will help quiet my brain a little, quiet the constant hum of worry and anxiety strumming in the back of my thoughts for the last couple of year.

Some days I feel like they’re working, these small, tentative steps. Other days, they feel futile, an inside out umbrella in the midst of a storm

Maybe both things can be true.

On Wednesday, I went for a walk, because 10,000 steps don’t appear out of nowhere. I went alone, which I rarely do for walks, and I went in the middle of the day. I didn’t encounter many people. Perhaps the sun, the thickness in the air, kept people inside or on more shaded paths. One man sat with a little boy in the grass, bikes nearby. He pointed out things on the ground, maybe out of actual interest, and maybe as a way to catch his breath before they began to ride again.

Maybe both things were true.

At one point, I took a breath and wished I wouldn’t have chosen the route I chose. Some days, when I’m running, I choose loops or stay along paths where I can make the choice to shorten the workout, to make my way home to air conditioning and cool water. On Wednesday, I chose a path with only one way home, and that way home involved simply walking all the way through to the end of the route.

As tired as I was, as hot as I was, I had to keep moving forward to get through to the other side.

Maybe the heaviness of my anxiety is like that path, at least right now. It’s possible these habits I’m cultivating will help my make it