“These pretzels taste like drywall,” he informed me gravely.
“You still ate them.”
“I was vulnerable.”
“You bought three bags.”
“Recovery is a journey, Bella.”
Somehow, despite myself, I kept responding, and strangely enough, I noticed something.
When I focused entirely on my leg, I panicked. Every movement felt impossible because all I could think about was failing, falling or hurting myself.
But when Dylan kept talking? When my attention drifted away from myself for even a few seconds? My body loosened slightly.
I felt less afraid of the task in front of me, and the therapist noticed too.
“Good,” she encouraged during one of the balance exercises. “Your posture relaxed that time.”
“What?” I blinked slightly. “It did?”
“Mhm.” She nodded. “You stop locking your body when you’re
