JordanWriting to Process

There’s static fritzing in my body today. It started when the world receded into the hush of night—my own rapid heartbeat, my husband’s even breathing, the white noise of my son’s bedroom the only sounds. It feels like my insides are made of steel wool, my organs scratching against one another, inflamed. There’s a heat behind my eyes, melting my vision. I don’t know if I trust what I see. This is the feeling of emotions with no exit strategy. When I cannot say how I feel to the people I want to express myself to, words become thistles, snagging the softest corners of me into uncertainty. I like to turn my hardships into lessons, to look for gold I … Read More