Dear Nervous System:
You make my life hell. Seriously, hell.
Yeah, I know it’s not your fault and you are just doing your job. I really do. You’ve been pretty beat up.
But it’s not my fault either. F’n Trauma!
Still, it’s you who seems so high maintenance sending all these mixed messages all of the time. It’s hard not to know if I should run away or stay still. You’re kind of unpredictable.
I’m exhausted. Aren’t you tired?
Let’s figure things out because we’re stuck together.