Put This Paper Bag Over Your Mouth And Nose, Breathe In, Breathe Out

Paralysed with fear and stress.

I don't want to turn into something I don't like so I won't whine.
(Praying for patience)
(knotted up)
(worried)
(Unsure)

I want to go from here to
(calm)
(steady)
(accepting)
(brave)
(strong)

It is trying for others to repeatedly see the same weakness. I too get irritated by whiners. So I won't be one. I have enough sense. I know what anyone will tell me to calm me down. I ought to tell it to myself. I am rational and sensible. I know what should be done, what I need to be. And bloggy dearest, dearest, you give me strength. I feel calmer when writing in you, my troubles smaller when put down in print. And the panic is less fluttery in my chest.
I am so worried, my dearest bloggy. But now you know that and I feel better.

Should I be disturbed that I turned to you for help? Who are you? You're not a figment of my imagination and more than just a repository of my thought. You're a clear vessel of perspective, a diagnostic, a lodestone. You help me judge myself. I don't know quite whom I address when I say bloggy, but in some respects you are of more help than any person; and that makes you worthy of a name.

Thanks.