Worries

I awoke yesterday with a pain so great I couldn't breathe...

I had been having a dream.  A dream that my ex, R, and I were in a motel room and we were having an argument. I pushed my elbow into him.  He reached with his hands and put a death grip on my stomach.  He continued to squeeze tighter and tighter... and even though the pain was unbearable, the words that were coming out of my mouth were, "I'm fine. What?!?  Do you think that really hurts?"

(The strange thing about this is things were never physical between R and I)

I looked up the meaning of the words motel, elbow, stomach... and they all sent a resounding message.
Motel=transition
elbow= the need for space
stomach= changes and the acceptance of these changes

On the surface, I look fine.
I get up and I do what I'm supposed to do day-by-day.
I smile and let things roll off my back because why carry stress when you don't need it.

But underneath, I worry.
I worry that my students will be lost without my student teacher.
I worry I  will be lost without my student teacher.
I worry.
I worry that I am turning into my paranoid schizophrenic father every time a thought passes through my brain that what someone did was intended to hurt me.
I worry that growing out my hair long will turn me back into that shy quiet girl that never knew how to style her hair.
I worry.

But, on the surface, you will see the fierce me, the "I'm-fine." me, the don't-worry-about-me, let-me-worry-about-you me...
...because I have learned people find worries petty.
...Or maybe I find my worries petty.
...and maybe I would consider that another worry.

But either way, I don't want you to worry about my worries.
I just need space for these transitions so I can accept these changes..
... or at least that's what my dreams tell me.