I notice I hold my breath when I'm anticipating something difficult – like waiting for a doctor's call, or before a tough conversation. The body knows before the mind even registers the threat. It's like bracing for impact – muscles clenched, ready for the blow. I catch myself doing it when I'm about to open my email some days. "What fresh hell awaits?" The tightening. It's almost a pre-emptive grief. The body remembers past hurts and tries to shield itself, even when the mind is still optimistic. Like a phantom limb aching for a loss that hasn't even happened yet.