I break all the time... sometimes it makes me feel like I'm failing, but I also think I only fail if I stop reaching for that light switch... keep reaching, hermanito. I'm always here in your corner 🫶🏽🖤🫂
Oh wow ! I say with such privilege that I have never personally experienced a panic attack, although I have been present, unfortunately too often, when a loved one is experiencing one. With your description, I feel that I have lived through your words and I am in a better position to offer support in the future. Thank you ❤️❤️❤️
Thank you so much for sharing this… I'm genuinely sorry that someone you love has experienced panic attacks, but it means so much to know my words helped you step a little closer to understanding what that experience can feel like. That's one of the greatest gifts a reader could give a writer… truly. Sending so much love to both of you 🖤🩶🤍🫂🫂
The voice sounded convincing as if it won, but the need to climb out from darkness and still flip the switch, not knowing if it will be enough, is a powerful contender — really faces fear here, stunning stuff Laura!
Yeah! I love how your angles aren’t always the most desirable outcome, but always the lesson we needed, grounded in the real. Always rolling out the hits — keep em comin!
Thank you so much, Miles… I wanted the darkness to sound convincing because it often does when we’re struggling. I didn't want to write a poem where hope magically wins because that’s not honest… I wanted to write about choosing to reach for the light anyway, without knowing if it'll be enough… I appreciate you reading and feeling this one with me 🖤🩶🤍🫂🫂
Maybe is such a powerful word here. It holds all the fear and doubt, but also that tiny little opening where the light can still get in. This was so raw and painful, but beautiful too. Sending you so much love. 💜
Thank you so much, love… you captured exactly what I was trying to explore with maybe… it's such a fragile word. It can hold our deepest fears, but it can also leave the door cracked open just enough for light to find its way in… I appreciate you for seeing that, and for holding my words so gently 🖤🩶🤍🫂🫂
It reminded me how often healing begins in what I call the Love Cave—that instinctive place where we curl inward, forehead resting on our knees, fists tangled in our hair, rocking gently back and forth. It looks like surrender, but sometimes it’s the nervous system doing its best to protect us.
I’ve learned not to rush those moments anymore.
I let myself become a rag doll.
I fold into Child’s Pose.
I breathe until my jaw softens, my hands unclench, and my heartbeat remembers its own rhythm.
Then, little by little, I lift my head.
Just enough to find the light switch.
Thank you for putting words to a place so many of us know but rarely know how to describe. ❤️
Thank you for reading and feeling this one so deeply with me, sis 🥹 I don't think I could ask for a greater gift than knowing the poem found a home in someone else's healing 🖤🩶🤍🫂
tempting, to give in
but you don't. again
lift your head. again
feel your heart. again
I felt yours. And anyone who ever has to make the climb will be grateful for having read this 🫶
Powerful. There was a lot of feeling in that. Feeling that came through. Wow
Amazing work my friend. I felt this. 🫂
I felt this in my heart. I’m in between trembling and released.
Powerful writing and the maybe carries a lot of that power is at the centre of a lot if it as that battle within yourself goes on.
Womderfully written, as always.
Thank you for feeling this one with me, Gary 🫶🏽🖤🫂
I worry I'll break again all the time, too.
It's horrifying.
I break all the time... sometimes it makes me feel like I'm failing, but I also think I only fail if I stop reaching for that light switch... keep reaching, hermanito. I'm always here in your corner 🫶🏽🖤🫂
I enjoyed this. Thank you.
I'm so glad... thank you for reading 🫶🏽🖤
Powerful.
Thank you, Lynn 🫶🏽🖤
🙌
Oh wow ! I say with such privilege that I have never personally experienced a panic attack, although I have been present, unfortunately too often, when a loved one is experiencing one. With your description, I feel that I have lived through your words and I am in a better position to offer support in the future. Thank you ❤️❤️❤️
Thank you so much for sharing this… I'm genuinely sorry that someone you love has experienced panic attacks, but it means so much to know my words helped you step a little closer to understanding what that experience can feel like. That's one of the greatest gifts a reader could give a writer… truly. Sending so much love to both of you 🖤🩶🤍🫂🫂
This is a powerful piece, Laura B. Excellent work.
Thank you so much, my friend 🫶🏽🥹🖤🩶🤍
The voice sounded convincing as if it won, but the need to climb out from darkness and still flip the switch, not knowing if it will be enough, is a powerful contender — really faces fear here, stunning stuff Laura!
Yeah! I love how your angles aren’t always the most desirable outcome, but always the lesson we needed, grounded in the real. Always rolling out the hits — keep em comin!
Thank you, Miles 🫶🏽 I appreciate you 🖤✨
Thank you so much, Miles… I wanted the darkness to sound convincing because it often does when we’re struggling. I didn't want to write a poem where hope magically wins because that’s not honest… I wanted to write about choosing to reach for the light anyway, without knowing if it'll be enough… I appreciate you reading and feeling this one with me 🖤🩶🤍🫂🫂
Maybe is such a powerful word here. It holds all the fear and doubt, but also that tiny little opening where the light can still get in. This was so raw and painful, but beautiful too. Sending you so much love. 💜
Thank you so much, love… you captured exactly what I was trying to explore with maybe… it's such a fragile word. It can hold our deepest fears, but it can also leave the door cracked open just enough for light to find its way in… I appreciate you for seeing that, and for holding my words so gently 🖤🩶🤍🫂🫂
This one settled into my body.
It reminded me how often healing begins in what I call the Love Cave—that instinctive place where we curl inward, forehead resting on our knees, fists tangled in our hair, rocking gently back and forth. It looks like surrender, but sometimes it’s the nervous system doing its best to protect us.
I’ve learned not to rush those moments anymore.
I let myself become a rag doll.
I fold into Child’s Pose.
I breathe until my jaw softens, my hands unclench, and my heartbeat remembers its own rhythm.
Then, little by little, I lift my head.
Just enough to find the light switch.
Thank you for putting words to a place so many of us know but rarely know how to describe. ❤️
Thank you for reading and feeling this one so deeply with me, sis 🥹 I don't think I could ask for a greater gift than knowing the poem found a home in someone else's healing 🖤🩶🤍🫂
Once again such a powerful piece I could feel the internal fight with every word.
I'm grateful for you, sis 🖤🫂🫂
This is so painfully symbiotic... I'm touched.
I’m really touched that this resonated with you, my friend 🫂🫂🫂
That was a powerful read Laura. Crazy writing, really well done.
Thank you, my friend. I appreciate you reading and feeling this one with me. I have been in a funk and I’m trying to push through anyway 🫶🏽🖤🫂