The Ember + Sage

My journey through panic, perimenopause, scuba diving, and finding calm one breath at a time.

I am not exactly sure what has happened to me…maybe it comes with age. Maybe it’s one more thing to chalk up to the Big P (perimenopause, anyone?!) Or, maybe it’s just me and who I have become.

 But somehow I have developed a fear. 

A fear of what? 

I don’t exactly know; it seems like every day there is something new to add to the list.

Read more: Finding Calm Amidst Panic and Perimenopause

Now, I have always been a bit of an anxious person- busy mind, always thinking of the what-ifs (and of course, never the positive what-ifs, but the worst-case-scenario ones). 

A worrier was my label. It was my job. 

But something has changed…I really started noticing it a few months back. Actually, I can pinpoint my exact tipping point…

We were stuck on an airplane at the gate in Dallas in the summer. The engine wasn’t working, which meant the air wasn’t working. Which meant the plane was HOT! We were stuck in that stifling plane for over 2 hours. And I felt it…the panic, the fear. The feeling of being trapped. I was hot, I was stuck, and I had no way out.

OMG, I was going to freak out….I was going to be ‘that person’ the crazy person who freaks out on the plane. The one who everyone records and goes viral because she is bat-shit crazy freaking out on a plane. 

I grabbed my water. I put some on the back of my neck and I breathed. 

In for 5 out for 6. 

I’m okay

In for 5 out for 6. 

I’m okay

Repeat, repeat, repeat. 

Last week we were on vacation and went over a bridge. In my defense,  it was the highest bridge in all of the Caribbean. And there it was….the fear. The heart beating a little faster. The tighter grip on the armrest. The shallow breathing. The feeling of the car going too fast. 

OMG, here I go again…the panic. 

In for 5 out for 6. 

I’m okay

In for 5 out for 6. 

I’m okay

Repeat, repeat, repeat. 

We started a new hobby, my husband and I…scuba diving. I was so excited. I loved snorkeling, so scuba diving would be amazing, right?! But I was nervous, anxious. I was chatting with a master diver, and she told me that diving is actually good for anxiety. The BCD jacket is tight, almost like a weighted blanket. And the water was open….freeing.

Alright….time to dive!

And then, there they were….the thoughts. 

Was I nervous? I think so.

 We are deep. Too deep. I don’t like this. 

What if I need to get back up? I am stuck.

I’m breathing those shallow breaths

OMG, now I am nervous. I am going to freak out!

Signal to go up! Signal to go up!!

And up we went. 

I’m done, I said to my instructor. 

You can do this yourself, I said to my husband.

I don’t like this. I’m scared. I don’t like being stuck

And then my instructor asked me to explain how I was stuck.

I said, I can’t go up if I need to.

And then she told me…you just did. You signaled up, and we went up.

Oh. Well, that was a pretty rational thought. 

Something about that simple phrase pulled me back into the moment.

I was okay.

I was just scared.

I had let myself get swept away by the what-ifs. By the story I had written in my head.

Not the story that was actually happening.

We went back down (full transparency, it took me a bit!), but I did go back down.

In for 5 out for 6. 

I’m okay

In for 5 out for 6. 

I’m okay

Repeat, repeat, repeat. 

I’ve learned a lot about myself in these moments (and the many others like them). 

First, I learned that I can trigger myself. I can make myself freak out pretty quickly by letting my thoughts get out of control. By allowing my mind to make up a story.

But I also learned that I am my own best glimmer (if you don’t know this awesome word, it is a micro-moment of calm, joy, or safety that cues your nervous system to relax).

In for 5 out for 6. 

I’m okay

In for 5 out for 6. 

I’m okay

Repeat, repeat, repeat. 

Maybe I don’t know where all of these newfound fears are coming from. Maybe it’s age. Maybe it’s hormones. Maybe it’s just the season of life I’m in right now.

What I do know is this: every time I start to panic, it’s because my mind has already written the ending before the story has had a chance to unfold. It tells me I’m trapped. That I can’t handle what’s coming. That I’m one breath away from being the next viral freak-out.

But lately, I’m learning that I don’t have to believe every story my anxiety tells me.

Sometimes all I need is one slow breath.

In for 5.

Out for 6.

I’m okay.