Still, every time, her body reacted the same way: that rush of heat in her chest, her pulse climbing too high, her vision narrowing just a little at the edges. She turned from the door and walked toward the window.
The Spiral
Thoughts began to circle like birds looking for somewhere to land. Did I say the wrong thing? Should I have backed down? Why do I always feel like I’ve done something wrong? The more she thought, the lighter her head felt, a dull buzzing rising behind her ears. She caught herself gripping the edge of the windowsill, trying to ground. Then, almost without thinking, she closed her eyes and took the deepest breath she’d taken all day: slow, intentional, pulling air all the way into her belly. And when she exhaled, the room softened. A single tear slipped free, tracing a slow path down her cheek before she wiped it gently against her forest-green blouse... the one her kids had picked out that morning. “You’re going to have the best day, Mommy.” For a moment, she’d believed them. Until she’d remembered the meeting and the decision she’d made. The one she still defended. Returning to the Present
Her breathing deepened again with each inhale steadier than the last. She noticed the light-headedness had eased. Outside the window, life continued in quiet simplicity: a mother and daughter sharing ice cream on the bench below; a woman in a black, flowy dress struggling to unzip her purse for parking money. The sight made her smile...small, ordinary moments, grounding ones. She remembered her therapist’s voice: “Use your senses. Come back to what’s real. Five things you can see, four you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, one you can taste.” She began, silently. 5- things she could see: the mother and daughter, the woman in black, the streetlight blinking green, the files stacked on her desk, her reflection in the window. 4-things she could touch: the cool glass beneath her fingertips, the fabric of her blouse, her pen, the ceramic mug on the desk. 3-things she could hear: the hum of the air conditioner, faint voices in the hallway, the sound of her own slow breathing. 2- things she could smell: her tea (now lukewarm but still fragrant with cinnamon and jasmine) and the faint, sugary scent of her daughter’s Barbie perfume lingering on her sleeve. 1- thing she could taste: that same tea, sweet and familiar, grounding her in the smallest way possible. The tears that had felt heavy moments ago now felt like release. The Knock A gentle tap at the door startled her. When she turned, it was her boss standing awkwardly, reaching for the briefcase he’d left by her desk. He must’ve noticed something in her face because before leaving, he paused and said, “I appreciate your hard work and willingness to have tough conversations.” She blinked, surprised. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “It’s not easy having my decisions questioned, but I understand why it happens.” He nodded and closed the door softly behind him. The New Path She stared for a long moment at the closed door, then back at the window. Before shutting her laptop, she thought about what her therapist had told her: “Every time you choose awareness over reactivity, you create a new neural pathway. You’re teaching your brain safety one moment at a time.” Maybe this was it, what change looked like. Not big, doses but small ones. A breath. A pause and a softer response. She smiled, picking up her tea again, and thought to herself, maybe I’ll choose this pathway again. The Lesson When anxiety rises, your body is simply trying to protect you. Grounding brings you back by reminding you that you are here, now, safe in this moment. Change begins in those seconds, when you pause, breathe, and let your awareness create space where reaction used to live. The Takeaway You can’t control every interaction but you can choose how you return to yourself after it. Sometimes, calm begins with a single deep breath and ends with the retreating decision to try again tomorrow.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Tools
|
RSS Feed