Turn Your Stress Into Smoke.

She had been asleep when the accident happened.

When she regained consciousness after a few short minutes, she felt as if there was something, a physical object with sharp edges, inside her lower back. Fighting back tears, while imagining herself impaled on pieces of glass, she moved a little, and to her relief, she felt her back move as well, her head craning to turn back as much as it could, to ensure there was no blood or shards of metal wedged inside her.

She felt sleepy. She felt grateful too. She was alright, albeit sluggish, her body fighting against her mind, that told her to take it easy, and let everything go, because taking it easy was the definite be all and end all of humanity, which included her too. She knew she had been fortunate, and that, something, or someone, was protecting her, from what, she didn’t know exactly, but she believed. Of all things, she had faith. She knew about The Secret, she attracted what she wanted.

She hadn’t attracted the accident though, and her mind was running helter-skelter, in every direction imaginable. The left part of her body, all the way from her neck to the lower back, felt stiff, as if her muscles were fighting to set themselves free from the iron, vice-like grip that held them in place, rigid, like an oak tree, yet screaming for the attention that was due to them, but stubbornly ignored by her, she had better things to do, after all, rather than dwelling on the current plight of her body

She was stressed. She wanted to kill. Using her bare hands. And laugh at it all. She wished she could run a chainsaw over herself and rip apart the excess fat that adorned her skin, and sew herself back into the shredded, ripped, human being that she had been. She wished, her mind would stop, for once, and ignore the stubborn muscle pull that seemed to want her to cry and helplessly plead her allegiance to it, to relieve her of the pain, the constant figs of irritation which made her want to scream.

She was stressed. She had work. She wanted to do well. Yet, deep, deep, inside the deepest recesses of her brain, she felt as if she didn’t want to do anything, and yet, she wanted to do everything. There was no middle ground. Personally or professionally. The stress bothered her, but she knew what to do. She would harness the negative feelings she had, about being constantly pushed, her activities monitored, while she tried her level best to achieve her numbers for the month.

She hadn’t realized the magnanimity and the scale of her potential.

She knew, she was capable, but it seemed, she felt resigned to let her motivations ebb away, slowly, gradually, maybe it was age, or maybe, it was just a serene situation where she needed to review her life’s goals, and gauge the direction where she was headed, if she had written down her goals, specifically, that is. She had envisioned her perfect life inside her head, already, and she believed in it sincerely.

The stress wasn’t going away. She found her mind automatically thinking about her monthly numbers, her parents, her mate, her friends, the car she had been in, her colleagues, her life, her body, her gym, her…everything. The images kept flashing, as intense as fire. She had to close her eyes, it was that intense. She fought back all her emotions. She hated showing them because she felt emotions were for the weak. A little was fine, but nothing more. Deal with it yourself.

She took seven massive, deep breaths, and continued, keeping at it, until she felt all the muscles in her body, feeling their vibrations, their pulsating rhythms, leading directly through her heart, which beat as strongly as a young horse. Slowly, she diverted her thoughts, imagining all the pain in her body, translating themselves into plumes of useless smoke, to be swatted away like irksome flies, as she laughed at them, in joy, without any abandon. She felt alive.

The deep breaths continued. She was in bliss. And she was sober.

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