Sometimes in the early morning, I wake to find my fears hanging above my head heavy like a sack of potatoes. Some days I can cut the sack of potatoes down, wash them, chop them, and make homefries to have with my breakfast.

Other days the potatoes fall on my lap and I let out anĀ oof. On these days I have to carry them around with me everywhere I go. Everywhere. Have you ever tried to brush your teeth while carrying a sack of brown Idaho-grown potatoes? Yeah, it’s difficult, odd, and so unnecessary. But that’s how it is for me. It’s my extra challenge that comes with life, which is already filled with more than enough challenges. I carry the potatoes while I drive, while I run (which you’d think would be great for strength training but it isn’t), and especially while I write. These potatoes are most intrusive while I write because they sit right on top of the keyboard and I can’t get anything done.

Some days, though – after a text from a friend or listening to music or reading a book or watching a movie – some days I can finally feel free to drop those potatoes and stomp on them and let out a cheer of triumph; some days, mid-day, I can muster up the strength to throw the potatoes out the window and laugh; some days, maybe for weeks, maybe months, I wake up and never have to see a bag filled with that starchy crop hanging above me. Those days are the best, those are the days I try to cherish. I know my fears may reappear, sometimes heavier than other days, but I’m learning how to cut them down sooner. Lately, I’ve even been optimistic and started compiling recipes for potatoes, like baked garlic french fries and potato green bean casserole. I mean, if I expect to be cutting down a lot more bags then I better be prepared with ways to cook them – at least until I find a way for them to fully disappear.

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