I’ve spent more time in the last eighteen months fighting to stay above water in a storm-tossed ocean than I have standing on solid ground. Some days show up rockier than others. There are mornings I see the waves coming the second I open my eyes and then there are times I’m taken completely by surprise. Oddly, my rough-water days aren’t always the ones that come with crisis or high drama. Here’s my theory. When I get a break and take a second to breathe, the adrenaline rush keeping me in the fight dips and I go under. I hate those days because they take me off guard. They steal…