Behind The Glass With Charlotte Eriksson

I wake up some mornings just feeling... frail. Like, please be careful, go slow, don’t touch me too rough, speak gently. It happens after worried nights, reliving things from the past or dreaming things I don’t wish to happen and I wake up feeling unrested and sore. Like I’ve just been pushed around between two thorny edges and my mind is as wounded as my body and the sky is as fragile as me, able to break into tears any moment. I used to run out in a worried state of anxiety, not knowing where to go with my body these days, not knowing how to drown out the strange unrest in my chest and I used to run run run until it felt better, which it rarely did, until the day was done and I could leave it behind and move on. But I’m learning to be gentle with myself. To treat me with the same care I wish others to do so I don’t push, I don’t force. I make myself something warm to drink, I sit down in a sunny spot, feeling the warmth like a warm blanket. I read something comforting, something about my place in the unive