Sometimes, when the pain quiets – usually after breathwork – I sit with my demons.
I invite them to the table and look them in the eye.

They all have names.
The one shrinking in the corner is Loneliness.
The one holding his chest is Despair.
Shame avoids eye contact.
Pain stares without blinking.
And Loss – he doesn’t speak, but he’s always there.

Naming them helps.
It makes them smaller.
More human.
Less myth.