It had been raining that day when I decided to go for a run. It's what I always did when I was feeling lost and alone, riddled with anxiety, and today was no different than any I had before when I talked to my mother.

At this point, running seems to be my only escape from her, yet, now I feel as if my running habits are tainted because of it. My anxiety skyrockets the second her ringtone blares on my phone, and the moment I hear it, I'm reaching for my tennis shoes. Our conversation left me running longer than I intended as my mind spun our words over and over again before it started to rain.

My shoes squeaked with every step I threw forward, and before I knew it, I was crashing into someone on the street that sent me flying back as my shoes lost their traction. It felt as if I hit a brick wall, leaving my nose broken and bloody. The man was nice though, having apologized for the accident and even took me to see the doctor. Maybe it was fate, or perhaps the anxiety riddled conversations I have with my mother have a purpose, because the man that bumped into me that day is the man I married a year later.