I know last week I wrote, "Be still, tender soul. You are not alone. Your needs have always been met, and this time will be no exception." My head knows this is true. Yet, in the less analytical organs of my body, chaotic distrust reigns. It seems as though no matter how many times my needs are met, I can never fully trust all will be well this time - not on the cellular level, that is. Even if my mouth speaks brave words, the pinches of tension gripping the top of my shoulders and the shallow breaths emanating from my lungs tell a different story.
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