I don’t feel stressed, but I’ve had stress dreams for some time now. Work feels nice, life feels steady, people are great, but somehow I am still grinding my teeth at night and imagining the worst. Seeing this image is helpful. Days like these – pretty, easy days – are the reality. I have lots of them, amazing days. They are frequent and so good to me. 

Of course it’s not all good. This morning during my commute I took a small seat next to two 20-something men. Upset that I’d taken the extra seat one was using to lazily spread his legs during rush hour, they began talking trash. Some things about my skin color, about my gender, about parts of my body. Some things about doing things to women. It went on for a few minutes and I sat steady, reading the news on my phone. I bit my tongue, refusing to give them the satisfaction of an argument. And all day I carried it with me, because it was a truly helpless moment and I was too afraid and speechless.

And maybe this is where the stress dreams come in, when the city is manspreading and you are simply on the wrong train. 

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