Just Breathe

Eyes open and eyeballs move from side to side as if to discover something new on a beautiful and hopeful Sunday morning. Talia lays in the bed for a few moments before getting up to start her day. She begins her daily routine as usual which consists of a shower, teeth brushing, hair drying, getting dressed, and drinking a cup of coffee. While headed to the kitchen, she glances at her cell phone and notices an email message that notifies her of a failed cable bill payment. Her eyes roll and she shakes her head in disbelief then grumbles, “Really? Not this again. I just paid that bill.”

Before she gets to make her coffee, there is a knock at the door. 

“Tali are you in there? It’s me, Ms. Zola.” 

Talia opens the door and there stands this five foot, roller wearing, red haired, elderly, nosey neighbor with her thick Sally Jessie-Raphael red glasses on and smeared red lipstick. 

“How can I help you Ms. Zola?”

“I just wanted to tell you that your car has a flat tire again.” 

Talia smiles at Ms. Zola and politely says, “Thanks for the heads up.”

Ms. Zola continues standing there pushing her glasses up from her nose to her eyes and yells, “Did you know we lost power last night during the thunderstorm?”

“No mam, I did not.”

Ms. Zola began peeking around Talia’s shoulder as if she was looking for something specific and began laughing. Ms. Zola had a laugh that sounded just like a snorkeling pig.  

“Did you have a hot date last night sweet pea?” 

“Nope, just sleeping like humans do.” 

Ms. Zola’s laugh quickly ceased as she clutched her glasses with both hands leaving out the pinkies to indicate sophistication. She also cut Talia a parental look and advised her to have a good day. Talia grimaces as she closes the door while uttering, “The tire isn’t flat, it’s just low on air. She positioned her back against the door as to catch herself. The hyper palpations of her heartbeat mimicked an African drum solo.  

Talia proceeds to the coffee maker. After about five minutes the coffee maker sound goes off and Talia reaches for the mug while checking her bank account. When she notices that there is only thirty dollars and fifty-eight cents left after paying bills, an immediate feeling of dissatisfaction lures over her. She decided to check her Facebook page as a distraction only to see that one of her friends made a post about their new job promotion. Another friend posted photos from a recent vacation. Not to mention one of her closest friends announced pregnancy a couple of months after Talia had a miscarriage. Scrolling down the page of faces and seeing multiple post about success and happiness made Talia feel inadequate and horrible about her own successes or the lack thereof.  

Her emotions got the best of her and she slams her phone on the counter and causes the screen to crack. She begins to talk herself through what she is feeling by using the techniques taught to her through meditation and countless therapy sessions. First she stops and begins breathing exercises. On the inhale she says, “It is going to be okay.” Then she exhales and says, “It is okay.” The meditation lasted for a couple of cycles and then tears began to flow down her cheek like a violent rain storm. She started crying and then her breathing exercises turned into uncontrollable sobs and abnormal breathing. There was no way she was going to make it through the next couple of steps. 

Talia is able to stumble her way to the bathroom. She rumbles through the medicine cabinet for her anxiety pills. When she closes the cabinet she notices that the sweat on her face looks like she just stepped out of the shower again. The steam that was coming from her forehead and neck was hotter than any cup of coffee. She barley gets the pill bottle open due to her hands shaking profusely. After finally getting the bottle open, she manages to drop all of her pills down the drain except for one. The struggle to take that one pill was like a mission impossible.  

After about a couple of minutes, Talia slowly began to find her calm. Then she made her way to the couch and curled up in a ball accompanied with rocking for comfort. Tears begin to form in the corner of her eyes as she started questioning herself.

“How can I continue to motivate people? 

“I can’t even control my own emotions.” 

“How can I be so powerless?”

“Why can’t I have a baby?”

“Who would ever listen to me again?”

“Why does this keep happening to me?”

“Will I ever be free of this?” 

“Why can’t I just be great?”

The tears trickled down her face soaking the couch’s pillow while falling into a deep sleep. When she awake a couple of hours later, it was if nothing ever happened. She sat up and let out a loud sigh of relief as she stretched and yawned. She Scanned over at the kitchen counter and saw her coffee mug only to realize that she never even took one sip. 

Her journal was sitting on the table next to her so she picked it up and began writing. The words of her soul effortlessly poured out on paper with every stroke of the pen; like an overflowing cup of thankfulness and gratitude. This was her way of documenting experiences and getting to a happy place. Poetry became the joy of which she could express her pain without fear or judgment. The two poems that she wrote was nothing short of genius. One titled Mentally For Real and the other titled Just Breathe. For her, writing was a sanctuary just as a monk finds peace in quietness. Her introvert tendencies were not created equally. Just maybe one day she will be bold enough to share the intimate parts of herself with the world but in that moment she decided to take one breath at a time with one day at a time.