The Chi in Your Chest

{Illustration for sale here}

I just wanted to tell you that I'm going to be alright.  I cried for 29 days straight until yesterday when I did not cry.  I didn't forget to cry, which is how I assumed it would happen.  I thought about him a lot, like I always do.  But yesterday I thought I might be feeling happy, and I didn't need to crawl back into bed.  There is nothing so special or unique about yesterday: I had a study date in the morning, I had three lectures about pigs, I ate a mediocre sandwich for lunch.  Then I came home and the house was cold and my dog was ignoring me.

Kim, who knits humpback whales with barnacles, said that maybe my chi is stuck inside my chest and can't get out.  And Abby, who genuinely doesn't regret joining this family even though I totally would't blame her if she did, said that sometimes exercise makes you feel just a tiny bit better.  And Kim agreed that exercise opens you up and does something fruity to your chi.  And even though I probably think chi is a bunch of crap, I am always on board for trying new things.  So I figured if I wasn't going to spend the time drinking whiskey, I should probably do something.

So I went running.  Which I hate.  I fucking hate running.  But I ran to the castle next door and up some hills and through some fields, and then I walked for a bit, but then I kept running.  Until I got a cramp in my side and thought I was going to die.  Which would have been fine, because by this time I was down by the hospital.  And all I really wanted to do was lie down in the grass until my side felt less like I was hosting a prison shiv.  But I kept going.  I walked.  Because I am not typically the kind of woman who spends very much time lying down in the grass waiting for these things to pass, and maybe I've already done enough of that as of late.  So I dug in and ran the rest of the way home.

I spent a few minutes stretching out and cooling down, and I thought of my chi stuck in my chest.  Which I've started to imagine as a tiny anthropomorphic baby fox.

"Come on, little chi, it's time to get up."

Love & Little Steps,

Sabrina