Caroling

Usually, I sing because I'm happy. I sing because I'm feeling so light and carefree and joyful that the feeling bursts out of me and I annoy my kids by bouncing around the house and belting out a Disney ballad or a popular pop song that they used to love but now will hate forever.

Today, I sang because I didn't know what else to do.

I don't remember the last time I had a panic attack. It's been at least two years, I think, since that full on, can't catch my breath, mind is spinning, I don't feel safe feeling took over. I don't know why it came. I mean, the world is in the middle of a pandemic, electoral chaos, division and strife galore, but my own personal world is actually going pretty dang well. I did just break up with someone, but only after a few weeks of dating. I am still recuperating from catching the virus that has flipped the world on its head, so there's that. I guess I need to give myself a little more grace as far as realizing there are stressful things going on that might trigger an attack. Every time I feel stressed out, though, I don't like to give myself credit for it because life is still so much better now than it was before.

Well, whatever the reason, Micki couldn't breathe for a minute.

I have recently been reading Mockingjay, and, near the end of the book, the main character, Katniss, is trapped in a room all alone for days. During this time, she starts singing. My mind caught hold of that, and it made sense to me. Singing forces deep, controlled breathing. My own non-rhythmic attempts weren't working, so I started singing my favorite Christmas songs. I sat on my bedroom floor, put on my puffiest coat and fluffiest socks, and cried and sang and sang and sang. At first, my voice trembled and screeched and wobbled all over the place. Eventually, it evened out and my singing became less about breathing and more about the calmness of the messages.

In the book, Katniss repeats things she knows to be true as a grounding technique. The first thing she repeats is her name. I tried that, too, but my name didn't feel real to me, particularly because my last name isn't one I am very fond of. The best thing I could think of that felt really, completely, wholly true was "Heavenly Father loves me." I repeated that over and over in my head as I sang.

Singing about Christ, focusing on God, those are the things that calmed and grounded and centered and focused me. 

I'm still a bit raw. I'm surrounding myself with only familiar, safe, calming things. The kids came home and turned on a grating, noisy cartoon. I asked them to change it to something happy and calming, so they turned on a musical. I'm writing, which is one of my safe spaces. I'm staying away from the news and social media. I'm giving myself permission to allow this to be a get nothing done, mental processing kind of day.

Deep breaths in and out. Snuggle the kids. Drink some hot chocolate. Be still. Be grateful. It feels better.