My husband has been sick (really sick) for a little more than a week.  Thankfully, he’s at the end of it and starting to gain his energy back.

Though, now I’m feeling more tired, achey, and congested.  Hard to tell exactly why, but instead of ignoring my feelings, I’m feeding them.  With sleep, and tea, and mini-doses of fear and doubt.

Of course those hurtful doses aren’t helping – but, I popped those pills for so (so,so) long that sometimes, I still swallow on instinct.

Big pieces of my anxiety exist because I struggle with healthy boundaries.

I like when people at work, home, and out in my community depend on me.  I like being counted on, seen as dependable, capable…for me, it’s thrilling  when someone asks for help.  So, I say “yes,” a lot.  Even when I shouldn’t.  Even when it hurts.

Then of course saying “yes,” too much results in worrying a lot more.  And worry is my drug of choice – so stopping after just a few is nearly impossible, and emotional hangovers are pretty much a guarantee.

Last night I wanted to binge.

But instead of letting my internal dialogue continue to spin me into panic, I went to bed early and did a round of 21 breaths.  A technique I learned from a book called: buddha standard time. Long, deep, but easy breaths through the nose, then out – however feels best…like dropping a 10-pound bag of groceries on the counter.  I usually go with audible sighs out my nose and mouth that also help me drop my shoulders and neck at the same time.

I don’t know if I got in/out the full 21 – but I did fall asleep.  And all I remember after that is right before I woke up, I heard a lovely, familiar voice (my own, but not) encouraging me to:

Try again, a different way.

And, I will.