Sometimes people ask me how I do it.

“What’s your process?”

I take a deep breath and I ask myself

how I’m feeling.

Am I lonely, am I angry, or sad?

After all the pain my mom has caused me

she texts me, only on my birthday–

and sends her wishes “with love.”

Am I frustrated? Am I nervous?

I breathe.

My dad is in the hospital

and I’m reminded again of how he

made up the best parts of my childhood

and how I wish he’d never left.

I breathe,

as if I just remembered how to,

and ask myself, “How am I feeling?”

What’s my process?