Don’t forget to breathe

I have this odd sense of gratitude for the ability to breathe, when grief dragged me into its clutches of darkness in the early days it resulted in my losing the ability to breathe. I remember it was the first thing I noticed that I wasn’t able to do, apart from talk, eat, function.

It seems I had up until recently, taken for granted the semi-conscious effort required for the inhalation of oxygen and the exhalation of carbon dioxide. I still catch myself holding my breath, hoping that when it resumes that it’s all a dream that I’ll wake up from.

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  1. Pingback: The scale of purple monkeys & grief – Ming Johanson

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