Becoming Mo

A broken heart is a real thing.

I think that’s what I felt – or maybe what I feel still. A few minutes ago, at least.

I’m not sure why I felt that, because I was in a happy space. Isn’t a negative feeling usually tied to a negative occurrence?

I was putting my little one to bed, singing the cupcake song. Somewhere between her sleepy singing and soft snores, a pain settled in my chest. It started dull, then became a real ache. It felt like my heart was sinking, like I couldn’t breathe.

Then a feeling of sadness came. It felt heavy.

For some reason, scenes from medical dramas I’ve watched – broken heart syndrome and all – flashed through my mind, and suddenly I really could not breathe.

I had to stand up. I had to walk around. That was the only way the air came back.

That’s heartbreak, right?

Or a panic attack?

Or is it just sadness?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t pretty. I didn’t like it. I wanted it to go away and never return.

It’s strange how you can be having one of your happiest moments, thinking happy thoughts, and everything turns dark in a blink.

I’m glad I stood up. Because slowly, I began to feel better.

That’s the key, I think – standing up.

Realizing what’s happening and actively trying to shake it off.

Yes, part of me wanted to stay there, to wallow. But I’ve only got me to save me…especially in that moment, so I’m glad I stood up.

Standing up didn’t erase the sadness – but it returned my breath. And that was enough for that moment.

I still feel sad. But I’m breathing.

I wonder what people do in such situations as this can’t be unique to me. Anyway, I will keep breathing.

I want happy.

I deserve happy.

And I’ll get happy.

For now, I’ll just keep breathing.