The will to change your hurtling momentum.

The first thing you notice, of course, is the tightness in your joints. Your fingers hurt. Arthritis should not be the first word in your head when you get out of bed when you are this young. Tired is the next word. No no no is what follows as you walk into the bathroom. Every cell is rioting against forward motion. You long to succumb to inertia even as you are fighting against it. Fifteen minutes before you have to leave for work. This is no way to start a day.

So you make a willful effort to reverse your thought process as you stumble into your closet and squint against the overhead light, searching for something to wear. Today will be a good day, you think, pulling down a dress. Yes, you tell yourself. Let's do this.

You think dimly that this is no way to start a day either, forcing yourself to be excited about getting up and living your life. But maybe that's the problem, this living. Or more specifically the how. The how of your living.

Sometimes a morning pep talk is all you have, but you also always have will in your favor. The will to change your hurtling momentum even when it seems impossible. One breath can send you in another direction, just like that. A breath. You have that, too.