Does it ever feel like you’re just wading through life? Just wading and wading and waiting for something to happen? You’re not exactly stuck but there’s a blockage of...of something that just won’t let up. And unless it’s irritation, you don’t feel anything, but even your irritation is mild and fleeting. It’s like your nerves are shot and yet they were never in use to begin with. How can something that was never used be so worn down? And this feeling isn’t numbness exactly, but rather Numbness’s more unpleasant cousin. This feeling you didn’t know you had until one day it just appeared on your couch and said “I’m not leaving. I can’t wait to be the worst room-- I mean headmate you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.” And I say it’s Numbness’s more unpleasant cousin because at least there’s a certain comfort in numbness. It’s a familiar face-- almost like a friend-- who comes to visit you every now and then and it’s like a gift when one day you open your eyes and can feel the sun. But this cousin...this fuzziness...this...wading and wading and waiting-- there’s never any reprieve. It’s like you’re constantly on the edge of a panic attack, caught in that split second before everything is too bright, too loud, too there, too much, too pounding and pounding and pressure. That split second where your brain is assessing and stuck in a tug-o-war between fight, flight, and freeze. It’s like your head is stuck underwater and you’re waiting to see if your lungs give out, if there will be a splash beside you, if your feet will sink to the bottom or you’ll float your way to the top. Just waiting and waiting and wading through life.