Self-assessment

When I have time and I'm alone, after my shower I do the Nekkid Self Assessment. You know the one: you scowl and turn this way and that, assessing the good, the bad, and the ugly (to extend a theme). 

I frown a lot lately. I've lost muscle mass, but I've also lost my motivation and some will. Bad combination. What if I become a skinny Jabba the Hut with too much skin?

Why do I have such irrational fears?

Maybe it's because the unthinkable happened. You know, that God-forbid-put-that-thought-out-of-your-mind thing. The I'm-phobic-about-snakes-but-put-me-in-a-pit-of-them-and-then-add-some-spiders-before-THAT thing. 

IT happened. 

How short a stretch is it to irrational fears after that?  Pretty damn short. Like a butt shift in the chair short. 

I can see how people develop serious anxiety from trauma. If the unthinkable happened once, how close is it to happening again? 

Don't freak out on me. I'm not bringing in a royal taster for Libby's food.  I've not wrapped her in bubble wrap (though she did that to herself yesterday for fun). I'm not in need of serious anti-anxiety medication. I can just see it out there. 

It's like the tiger in the cage at the zoo. You solemnly nod to it. You acknowledge it's presence. You concede it's power, that it could probably take you any day of the week if given the chance.  You thank God and modern materials for barriers. 

I hold hugs for longer. I hold hands more.  I hold Libby tighter. You call. You text. You come over. 

We keep it at bay with the light.