Let go, Let go, Breathe In, Breathe Out

Having spent much of my life held hostage by stifling anxiety (in between the inevitable plunges into depression), and not even knowing all this was happening until my mid-20s, the past decade or so I've been relentlessly seeking the peace I didn't know existed or was even possible.

My peace-seeking journey started in denial: I'm not anxious, I'm just uber thoughtful and attentive and watching everyone's smallest movements and analyzing every comment in case they are uncomfortable so that if they are I can do everything in my power to alleviate any discomfort so they feel at ease and isn't that the kind thing to do and it has nothing to do with me I just care about everyone's feelings don't you? At times this was even lauded as "a gift." Let's be careful. Caring about other people and having the sensitivity and awareness to treat others with kindness, love, and respect is a beautiful thing. Spending all your precious energy dissecting every look and mood and comment in order to react in a way that keeps those around you happy is not a gift. It denies the world of the one glorious you that exists, and "helping" in those situations can often feel a lot more like manipulating and control to those on the receiving end.

I finally starting accepting the fact that I might be the teeniest bit anxious (just a smidge, a fraction, no big deal, easy to overcome) when I acknowledged what went on in my body... The stomach in knots. The shoulders tight. The jaw clenched. The forehead furrowed. I wasn't anywhere near ready to admit my thoughts were racing and replaying past (and future) situations over and over and over again in my head to find ways to make them better. I started to take inventory of my body, and that's when I finally could say I was, indeed, experiencing quite a lot of anxiety (tiny side note - be oh so gentle loves not to label yourself - or others - as an "anxious person," as if anxiety is part of your identity. Anxiety is a thief and it absolutely is something you or others are dealing with but IT DOES NOT define you. You are perfect).

Slowly, ever so slowly, I started checking in with myself. Not with my thoughts - those anxiety bunnies were still running too rampant for me at the beginning of my journey - but just with my stomach, my shoulders, my jaw, my forehead, my hands. I started learning how to take one deep breath (sometimes three!) and relaxing my forehead, letting my shoulders fall, unclenching my hands and jaw. Not unsurprisingly, this is also when I started considering meditation and yoga, two of my current lifelines.

After months (perhaps years?) of just awareness, it was time to do the work. The deep breathing and better body awareness were great coping strategies, but they didn't stop the bunnies from jumping out of their burrows and scurrying around in my mind, all so fluffy and innocent-like. Just there to protect me and help me and show me all the things to be scared of. I think I got so used to my fluffy companions I really thought they were beneficial. I completely gave in to giving them all my time and attention, I didn't realize I was using all my energy running around chasing these possibilities in my mind, and never fully living.

The change took a long time. A long long long long looooooong time. And let's be real. It suuuuuuuuuucked. Years of therapy. Of sobbing on the bathroom floor. Of questioning all my relationships and beliefs and letting myself experience rejection and fear and profound loneliness. But also, sometimes, some joy. Some peace. Some hope. Some REAL-ness. When I stopped trying to hold it all together for everyone else, everything I thought I knew fell apart in me. And then... I found myself.

For the first time in my life, I starting asking myself what I thought. What I wanted. What brought me joy. What angered me. For a long time I didn't have answers to these questions. But I was learning to listen. It was like getting to know someone I had just met. And you know what I stopped doing? Trying to fix everyone else. Trying to be the peace-maker. Trying to keep everyone "happy."

The funny thing... The bunnies are still there. But they are just bunnies. I see them, I thank them for their concern, then I let them run off, while I look up to the sky and keep moving forward on my path, hands relaxed, shoulders back, breathing in, and breathing out.