There was no name for it, the first time it happened. To be honest, I’m not even sure how old I was, or even the catalyst. There was only the feeling, like the floor moving away from me and the churning, like a rending machine in my guts. It was only later that I really understood the patterns, and that it was anxiety.
It’s an unwanted guest, anxiety. It arrives uninvited and sometimes outstays its welcome. Sometimes, it’s like an emotional pause button, making you feel unable to do anything at all. At other times, you try to nullify it. Often, it triumphs.
Today though, it’s okay. I’m just looking at the birds (who also innately understand a lot about patterns) and leaning into their reassuring sounds and formation. It’s meditative, and it assuages the anxiety – for now, at least.
Hit The North 