I wish I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I’ve woken up with an antsy feeling after my grandmother’s death; there are just too many to count.
There are days when the feeling wakes me up in the middle of the night and makes me afraid to turn around in bed. (What I’m afraid of? I don’t know) Other days I get up and I’m pushed to leave my house, to walk away and put some physical distance between me and my memories.
Anxiety is something I now have to live with and it’s usually an aspect of my life I’ve learned to ease with writing. I’ll take all the jumbled thoughts in my head and I’ll chase them down until I find the one that forces the rest of them to make sense. On the days when the antsy feeling is overpowering, writing isn’t an option. Maybe I’m too on edge, or the words just aren’t there yet, but I just can’t sit and chase them.
I need to run.
So I do. I leave my house with no where in particular in mind and the further away I get, the less claustrophobic I feel.
This weekend my need to escape brought me to La Casa Azul, a bookstore that focuses on Latino/a writers. As soon as you walk in you’re greeted by Spanish music playing on the speakers, warm (and anything but understated) colors and walls of books.
Feeling claustrophobic in my own house is a new feeling for me. Usually home is where I would escape to, not from. I’m not sure why I have these moments but I’m glad that when I do I tend to gravitate towards running away, I find myself running to places I know I’ll feel safe.
Books are my safe place. Especially until I can go back home.
(If you want to learn more about La Casa Azul, check out their Facebook page)
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