I’m growing more and more concerned that the ever-increasing levels of stress may ultimately return my mental wellbeing to the familiar chaos it always was.
It’s on these days that gravity feels as though it is deliberately trying to pull me down harder; when my hip-bones feel as though they are being crushed against the surface upon which they lie.
In earlier years, the sense of knowing whether or not I was upright seemed entirely foreign to me. Any time I would close my eyes, I could feel my perception immediately switch to its default of neutral bouyancy — not to say that I was ever really floating but, unless I could visually validate the solidity of my feet on the floor, the rest of my body couldn’t tell the difference either way.
So is this the brain’s way of fighting back against uncertainty? Is this what it means for me to feel grounded? I suppose, after years of not knowing up from down, the certainty of knowing where I am must seem somewhat oppressive in its unfamiliarity.