Ballast

My computer tells me that sunrise will be soon as I type this. That’s reassuring.

A week ago, Friday, I found myself having the worst panic attack I think I’ve ever had in my life. Couldn’t get my breath. High pulse rate. Chest pains. Overwhelming anxiety. If you read my previous post Radical you’ll know that a panic attack is the opposite of my goals for myself for this new year. Here’s a visual. I’d prefer to be existing on the right hand side.

So how did I go from my Radical post to a panic attack? Do I not do my own journaling exercises? Do I not pay attention to my own ballast during the day? Of course I do. I’m actually trying really hard on all fronts. Life just has a way sometimes, of being life.

The first contributing factor to the panic attack: work.

Side note: it’s possible this blog is in part my way of talking myself into making a decision about my paid job and whether I stay or go. But we’ll save that one for a different post.

Work announced org changes. Changes which impact my job. Changes which likely will mean I could work all the hours I want over the next 6-12 months (another side note: I have no desire to work 50-60 hours a week, yet because I am who I am, I often do). Changes that resulted in colleagues losing their jobs. Changes which may help us deliver on our mission better in the long run, but in the short term create an expected (in hindsight) alarm. Change is hard. The unknown is hard. When I hear the phrase transition period all I think about is chaos and in chaos I do NOT thrive. Layered on top of all of that is the corporate communications – emails and talking points which are vague, coded, word-smithed to death, and so focused on highlighting the upside of the announcement that you can hardly even decipher what is in fact happening. As a writer, I find myself offended on a personal level.

The lead up to the org change announcements was a whirlwind. I logged twelve-hour days. I had to act as if I didn’t know anything when in fact, I knew some things (but not all the things). The day the announcements were shared across the org, I had colleagues calling me in tears. I fielded dozens of questions. I tried to get my actual work done. I made it through Thursday. The worst of it was over.

Then, on Friday, my nervous system decided to feel all at once everything I hadn’t allowed it to feel for the entire week prior.

Here it is good to mention the second contributing factor to panic attack: inauguration day.

Remember how I said I do not thrive in chaos? Well, here we go again. I also don’t thrive when I’m watching rights being taking away, critical government programs being gutted, immigrants being detained whether legally or not, and foreign aid being suspended. I do not thrive in a system that denies the existence of others. I do not thrive under blatant misogyny and racism. I do not thrive watching unqualified people continue to fail upward into positions of immense power.

The work week before inauguration day had been so overwhelming I was able to keep the reality of the inauguration shoved way to the back of my mind. Until the Friday prior to the actual day. That’s when my nervous system decided to not only feel the entirety of the week I had just experienced, but also to add to the attack all the anxieties about what was going to happen in this country only three days later.

It took me the entire weekend to recover from the panic attack. I did more meditation videos for anxiety in a seventy-two hour period than is possibly healthy. I switched to decaf coffee and tea. No point in adding stimulants to an over-stimulated nervous system. I slept a ton. I journaled and journaled and journaled, trying to find my way back to my breath. I did not watch any part of the inauguration. I listened to no commentary on it. I read no news article.

Of course, one can’t refuse to engage with what is true forever. I went back to work this week. I sent emails. I responded to emails. I attended meetings. I DID NOT work fifty hours again (go me!). I have tracked the alarming decisions of the administration as they have unfolded (though not minute by minute – please don’t do that to yourself). I have felt the rage at the woman-hating and abusing man being given the DoD post and all of the sycophant senators and vice president who voted yes for him. I have felt the sorrow of decades of diversity efforts being rolled back, eliminated. I have considered how to let the right people quietly know that if anyone needs a spare bedroom for any reason (to hide from our own government), I have one. I have confirmed I can stay in Iceland for up to ninety days at a time with no visa.

Here I am then – working to find ballast. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. Or rather, I suspected it wouldn’t be easy, but now I know for certain. Perhaps you do too? What have you done to steady yourself during this week of chaotic change, regression, narrow-mindedness, and aggression? How are you catching your breath? Are you breathing? Check. Right now. In for a count of four. Out for a count of four.

The invitation this week is to breathe. Preferably for ten to fifteen minutes. In a quite space. You don’t have to officially meditate. Rather, simply be still and be with your breath. Lie down if you want. Curl up in a ball even (I did for one the panic attack meditation videos I did). Breath until you feel your nervous system relax. Doesn’t have to be by much. You’ll feel it when it happens. When it does, feel the extra space you’ve created within yourself. Remember that space always exists.

If you want to journal, here are some questions to consider:

1. If you were to replace thirty minutes of news (television, apps, doom scrolling, talking to that one relative who seems to know everything all the time the minute it happens) a day with an activity which reminds you to breathe deeply, what would that activity be? Why that activity? Try to be specific.
2. How do you check-in on yourself each day? At what time of day do you check-in? Do you need a few extra daily check-ins right now? If so, how will you make room for them in your schedule?
3. There is often ballast to be found in helping others. Even a small act of kindness toward a fellow human being can provide temporary relief from the sense you are powerless to do anything. None of us are powerless. What does kindness look like to you under this new administration? What small gesture can you make to let someone else know they are seen?
4. No matter your efforts, sometimes life simply catches up and overwhelms. It is helpful in those moments to have tools readily available to help you through. What are your tools? For example, I already knew which YouTube yoga instructors I prefer so during my panic attack I went to them. If you don’t know what your tools are, spend time finding them when you feel okay, rested, good. It is then one less thing you have to panic about when you are panicking.

May your ballast this week be your breath. In for a count of four. Out for a count of four.