Christine Ray – Crashing blindsided – found and supported
It is the flood of emotion that always makes me flee. The triggers are unpredictable but the reaction is not. It is like someone is ripping my chest open, using a rib spreader, exposing the fragile membranes around my heart to the glare of light. I clutch my hand to my chest, as though I can hold the gaping edges of my body closed the way one would the sides of an unbuttoned shirt.
Gratefully, I make it to the sanctuary of the bedroom before the flood of tears. I do not turn on the light. The key is to make myself small. I sit on the floor, back against the bed, feet under the dresser and pull my knees to chest, hugging them tight. I envision the weight containing everything that is currently threatening to spill out.
For a while I simply sob, inconsolable, all of my emotions bleeding…
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