I've begun to notice a pattern. A down-shift of mood from mid-June onwards that won't quit. Then I remember what happened to me nine years ago in mid-June, and realise it might be a long time before these body-memories quit. 

I wish I could talk about it openly.

Nine years, and I still lose it. Nine years. I wish I could lay it to rest for good. But I close my eyes, and it's there. 

I know I'm so lucky, so incredibly lucky, to be where I am today. But I feel like I can't take hold of it. The past keeps breathing sweaty, rotting meat memories down my cranium. And I try not to forget how to breathe on my own.