it takes time.

It takes time.

It takes time to slow your heart racing.
To learn how to breathe again, in and out.

It takes time to unlearn your triggers.
To recognize those times of the day creeping up on you, elevating your panic without you even realizing it.

It takes time to stop being afraid of church.
To be able to sing the songs without becoming angry.
To sit in the pews without having to wrap your arms around yourself, holding yourself tightly so you don’t end up in tiny little pieces all over the sanctuary.

It takes time to make friends.

It takes time to get better at sex.

It takes time to get in shape.

It takes time to learn how to take care of your home.

It takes time to learn how to communicate.
To not run away from the hard conversations.
To not ignore the signs because it’s scary.
To share your feelings without attacking the other person.

It takes time to heal.

It takes time to trust people again.

It takes time to learn not to let anxiety drive your life anymore.

It takes time.

It scares me sometimes, looking ahead at the days and days of getting better that remain in my future.

But then I remember, it takes time.
And while I’m alive, I have time.

This is not the end.

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Author: rebekahkayosborn

I am attempting to capture the events, non-events, and thoughts about each, as they occur in the increasing busy-ness of life. As my professors always said "You might want to write this down." Who knows what could turn out to be important?

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