Some mornings it is just too much.

I wake up and the covers are impossibly itchy. My hair scratches at my face and scalp. Every seam in my clothes is a line of irritation and torture.

I try to ignore it.

The house is too loud. Or is it too quiet? Every move I make echoes and clanks, every move someone else makes bounces around before colliding with my ears, but at the same time… The silence is numbing.

I try to ignore it.

I’m brushing my teeth and it tastes like someone has poured acid on my tongue, and stuck a feather down my throat. I can’t shake the feeling of a thousand hairs stuffed in my mouth.

I try to ignore it.

I go down the stairs and every step echoes, my hair is tickling my face, everything’s itchy, why’s it so quiet?- how’s it so loud? I don’t-

A hand on my arm anchors me. I look and see a mug of coffee pressed into my hand.

For the first time this morning, which feels like eternity, I remember to breathe. I remember to breathe in rhythm to the one standing next to me, in rhythm with the one who loves me.