Breathe in;
Breathe out.
A good friend recently wondered aloud what the purpose of a conductor is to a musical ensemble. I think to the audience, conductors just look like crazy people waving sticks, but any band kid can tell you how essential it is to be well directed. It’s really obvious and nerve racking when the boss doesn’t know what they are doing. The conductor’s job is not a small one. The person with the baton is the person who tells instruments how to feel, express themselves, and breathe. If no one’s there to direct life in the giant organism that is an ensemble, the result is comparable to the command center of the brain dying. Everything falls apart, and the music collapses.
I always know how to feel. Accessing my emotions, as well as understanding the feelings of others, has never been an issue for me. No matter what happens, I always know how I feel about something, and I can usually take a stab at what the other person in the room is feeling too.
I know how to express my thoughts and feelings. I may not always do it well, but I am familiar with the beauty of creative expression, as well as the day to day necessity of a good, clarifying conversation.
Inhale.
Exhale.
I don’t always know how to breathe.
Sometimes I forget. Life catches you in a riptide, and I get so carried away that I abandon my diaphragm, leaving it leaping to catch up.
It usually begins with a thought. Sometimes just a simple, innocuous idea can consume everything else, because it’s a catalyst for overwhelming, mind-numbing fear and anxiety.
When I’m afraid; I freeze. I stand very still, and I try not to make a sound. Or else I run, looking for somewhere where no one can see me. I don’t want anyone to notice me when I’m afraid. It’s odd how much I can wish no one could see me, even though I don’t want to be alone, even though I want someone to understand and to remind me to breathe.
Inspire.
Expire.
Panic.
It’s an odd topic, and it’s a difficult one. I find myself wincing as I type this, because it’s embarrassing to admit that I have some serious issues with fear. It’s humiliating to fess up to all the times that one simple sentence has sent my imagination into overdrive and my brain into panic mode. It’s difficult to accept that words can shut me down. It’s even more intimidating to share that vulnerability, but it’s important. It’s SO important.
Panic is scary. Panic is lonely and desperate and hopeless. Panic’s only saving grace is in its temporary nature, and it always returns, but let me tell you a secret:
You are not alone.
Fear will lie to you. It will swear that everything you are, or else everything you were, has been reduced to ashes. It will strip from you perception, and it will make you feel weak. It will tell you that everything in and outside of your head is strange and scary, and it will make you want to fly far away from anything real.
But it’s not true.
Your friends are real. Your family is real. The people who love you, and love itself, will still exist when the madness ends and your breathing slows. Chances are good many of them have felt intensely afraid too. They will understand, and they will love you, even when all you are is small.
They will tell you, all you need to do is remember to breathe.
Breathe,
And the rest will pass.
Maybe your life is stressful. Maybe it’s hard to wake up in the morning. Maybe it’s harder to go to sleep in the dark. Maybe you fear something, and it haunts you. Maybe that fear has convinced you that you are alone and this world, and that you always will be. Maybe you are only ever one idea shy of a meltdown.
Remember to breathe. Remember to slooooow down. Count your fingers. Count the lines in your hands. Trace the wrinkles, and remember that every time those fingers curl, they create another crease, another tally of your experiences. Each experience makes you stronger, more capable, more prepared for tomorrow.
Fear is not forever.
Fear will tell you that nothing will ever improve. Fear will call you its forever friend. Fear will lie.
Know that every day is different. Every morning is new, and you are new with every day. You are constantly evolving, growing as you conquer the minor complexities of passing time. Your wrinkles are proof, the scars of your thoughts and expressions, the fingerprints of your existence in time.
What I mean to say is: no, this won’t last forever. No, this drowning is only temporary, and the next moment will be different. The next moment you will see reality for what it is: full and not entirely scary, not entirely lonesome.
You will also be different. You will be stronger for having faced the fear and having survived. There is nothing shameful in fear, because fear empowers you to face what is next. Fear educates you, prepares you for the worst. So no, you have nothing to be ashamed of, and as Roosevelt said, you indeed have nothing to fear, other than the fear itself. Once the panic subsides, you will be golden.
I swear.
Just breathe. Everything else will come in time. Strength and love will be there. All you need in this moment is air. With a solvent to diffuse the stress, the fear will dissipate.
Remember to breathe
In
And
Out
You will find the peace that you are so desperately missing. All you need now is to survive, and the rest will come with time.
