I feel like a warrior when I walk on the streets…

Oh yea, I fainted there once coming out of the subway. And that bench right over there? That’s where I got into a fetal position one day so I wouldn’t faint. I sweat through a pair of jeans and my jacket until T could carry me home.  Over there on the corner of Greenwich and West 10th I thought I was going down, my heart pounding through my throat.  I crawled out of a cab from sheer weakness many times on Grand Street where the old apartment was.  I convinced myself that I was going to die at the stand up soup counters at Dean and Deluca one day (still can’t eat there).  And it goes on and on throughout Manhattan.

At first, this scared me.  I didn’t want to come home to my city after being away for so many weeks.  So many scary memories.  Even walking down my own block I could feel the panic.  For so long it was a struggle.

But now I choose to look at it like a yummy scar.  Some really good stories that I can look back and laugh at (well it’s a chuckle now but one day it will be a laugh).  The battle is over.  And I won. I WON.

Now if I could just get my mind to play nice.  Oh and sleep.  Sleep would be good.