I nearly blew it up. I was down, deep in the depths, where the water is black and dank.

Heavy with regret. And I couldn’t find my way up.

Kicking and fighting — sinking lower and lower.

And then I came up.

Not in one forceful push to the surface, filling my lungs with air and spitting water.

But in a slow, sometimes gentle, oftentimes painful, unpredictable, crooked arc.

Up and down and up again until I could breathe.

That’s the scary part. Believing that the breath will come.

That you deserve to let it fill your lungs and return you to life.

Published by

Kat Stroppel

PNW mom and comms pro ... ditching perfection, celebrating life, finding joy in the journey and reminding myself daily to let it be.

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