The past month has brought quite a bit of chaos.
Three weeks ago, I woke up at 2 A.M. in an unfamiliar bed and spiraled into a full blown panic attack. Brian and I had just moved out of the house in Annapolis that we’ve shared with friends for the past 3 years and into my parents’ house in Baltimore. It’s been a few years since I’ve had to count my breath and wait for my heartbeat to slow. I almost felt silly as I flipped onto my belly, created a little pillow with my forearms, and told myself, “Take a deep breath, you’re home.” My fingers inched across the bed and found his.
Two weeks ago, Brian and I got married on my 30th birthday in Rincón, Puerto Rico. I could feel my lungs constricting as I approached the beach and caught a glimpse of all our wedding guests. But once under the arbor with his hands in mine, he gave me a look that said, “Take a deep breath, you’re fine.”
Last week, during our honeymoon, I was convinced I was going to suffocate in the crowd gathered at Voodoo Festival. One second we were dancing to Odesza, and the next I was pushing my way through people in search of fresh air. Just as I could feel bile creeping up my throat, I felt Brian’s hand in mine and heard him say, “Take a deep breath, I’m here.”
Today, I taught my first yoga class in months. I was beginning to feel nervous and a little anxious as I began to center my students, but then I asked them to think of someone who brings them comfort amidst their chaos. Someone who feels like a deep breath of fresh air.
In my head, I could hear Brian say, “You’re home. You’re fine. I’m here.”