It didn’t seem like it should have bothered me at all yet there I was forcing back tears, telling myself to breathe, feeling a rush of emotions erupt while my husband and David stood in the doorway watching. “What can we do? How can we help?” They knew the right things to say. I knew there was nothing they could do. Everything I was feeling ran deeper than a surface fix. Embarrassed, not knowing why I was reacting the way I was, I asked to be left alone. I needed to figure out why the simple act of rearranging furniture had caused me so much anxiety. My writing room has been…