Air

It feels good to be able to breathe again.

Gradually, over the last few days, I've begun to rediscover my equilibrium. Some of that has to do with momentum—my dad is out of the hospital and back in rehab, my master's project is in, Zach is coming home soon, and the end of the semester (if not my degree) is finally in sight. Just three more significant deadlines to go, and all of them feel completely within reach.

My current level of stress is still well above recommended levels, but at least the needle has dipped out of the red zone, where intractable panic sets in. That panic and its accompanying paralysis are probably far worse than whatever eventuality one is panicked and paralyzed about.

Not that much has changed in fact—life remains way too intense. But it's as if someone opened the pressure valve on my psyche and siphoned off a tiny bit of stress, keeping me just this side of the tipping point/slippery slope/[your clichéd euphemism here]. I'm still close enough to the edge (although, fortunately, not the ledge) that I can see beyond it and know that I do not want to reach whatever you'd call the polar opposite of the Promised Land. (The Broken Promise Land?)

And I am going to fight like hell to stay right here until—someday soon, I hope—I can start retreating even further back, if not all the way to the Promised Land, then at least to safer ground.