There’s a pit in your stomach that doesn’t seem to go away.

You’re always exhausted, but sleep doesn’t help and insomnia is your norm.

You try to do things to distract the feelings: watch movies, go out, exercise voraciously, take long walks, immerse yourself in work and working late, but you’re always aware of that sinking feeling of worry and quiet despair brewing.

Your throat and chest feel tight.

Your body feels heavy with the weight of worry.

You get used to your stomach hurting, in knots, a clamping down.

You are keenly aware of your phone, keeping it close at all times, waiting for a message, on alert for the vibrate feeling in your pocket or the comforting ding sound. Anything. Just to feel calm again. That everything is alright. To know that you avoided disaster. To feel: I’m still wanted.