Janey walked along the boardwalk, all of the beachside restaurants and shops mostly closed in the off-season. She wore a jacket which hugged her hips, and she walked into the sunrise, breathing the same new-day-energy into her lungs.
She felt better today than she had yesterday, and yesterday had been her best day since being released from the psychiatric unit. Talking to her therapist helped. The breathing exercises she’d taught Janey helped. The journal-writing took so much from Janey’s shoulders and gave it to lined paper and blue ink.
She’d learned how to relax her muscles. How to work through negative self-talk. The medication she took every single morning had been the single best help ever, and while Janey now viewed the world through a somewhat muted glass, it was better than hold
