“Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly.” —Proverb.

I had my first-ever anxiety attack last year. I was in a season of relative calm externally, but internally and subconsciously, was starting a new phase of healing my heart. Of course, I had experienced worry and stress before, but never the physical symptoms that accompany deep anxiety: a freezing of sorts where I couldn’t move, a mind that went blank, and an increased heart rate. Luckily, I was able to breath myself out of the moment, and had a therapy appointment that very afternoon that equipped me with some tools to try to prevent future instances.

Thankfully, I’ve only experienced those symptoms one more time, but have so much more empathy for my friends who experience more frequent attacks. What I’ve learned about my anxiety is that I have to deal with the moment by moment and day to day emotions as they come. I can’t bottle them up and decide to deal with them weeks and months later, as I’ve done my entire life. I need to continually create emotional space, as my therapist calls it.

So, when overwhelm does creep in – that feeling that there is more to do than humanly possible, or the weight of the world sits squarely and solely on my shoulders, or when packing up and living a life alone on a deserted island sounds like a really good plan – that’s when it’s most important to pause.

Sometimes, I sit in silence, meditate, and let the thoughts racing around my mind settle like flakes falling to the bottom of a snow globe. I take inventory of my heart space to make sure there’s nothing expired that needs to be thrown out. (There’s almost always something that needs to go.) I often write and let the worries spill out onto the pages of my journal. Other times, I take a walk, do some form of exercise, or move my body in some way, even dance. 

The irony about overwhelm is that it tricks me into thinking there isn’t time for a break when that is the very thing I need most.

Because when I break to meditate, or journal, or move, my frontal lobe gets reset so I can prioritize and start knocking things off my never-ending list – those things causing me worry in the first place.

I am able to more quickly recognize and feel grateful for all thing things going right in my life.

And my amygdala is reminded of who’s in charge, confirming to myself the thing I’ve always known: that I’m stronger than I thought.

[Photo by Cameron Stow on Unsplash]