Today I spoke to a lady who is scared of dying.
From ill health.
And she was teary about the prospect of leaving her young children behind.
It was not a melodramatic conversation, just a real one about the state of stress and inflammatory response her body is crying out with.
Mother to mother.
I actually know how this feels.
There’s no such thing as a block.
You’re not blocked, or stuck.
Are you under a door?
Are you caught in a locked wardrobe?
Is someone holding back physically?
Or does it just feel this way.