I Put My Hand on My Own Chest Like I Was Somebody Else

Dear Delyara, It happened in bed. No panic attack. No big cry. Just that late-night feeling where everything I had kept moving around all day finally sat down at once and I could feel my heart beating too high in my throat. Without thinking, I put my hand flat on my chest the way I would if it were one of my kids lying beside me scared in the dark. I whispered, “It’s okay.” To myself. That broke something in me. Because I realized how rarely I comfort myself in the same voice I use for everyone else. I manage myself. Push myself. Organize myself. Explain myself. But actual tenderness toward myself still feels almost foreign. I kept my hand there until my breathing slowed. Then I cried because I think I’m lonelier with myself than I knew.