Breathe in. One. Two. Three… I begin counting in my head until five seconds have passed. Breathe out. I repeat these steps three times until my shoulders begin to relax, my heart feels a little less pressure, my mind stops reeling up new lies. It has taken me years to develop a habit of doing this. When I first started, it simply did not seem to work. I would only remember when I had already lost control. Every time I tried to take a deep breath, it felt like I was drowning deeper into my pain. I could not get my body to focus on holding in a breath when I had already gone into flight mode: my hands shaking, my heart beating as though I had run a mile, my lungs gasping for air.
It only served to make me feel more trapped in my body; I wanted- needed- air, but I was scared that if I let myself calm down, I would be shutting off the feelings just long enough for them to pile up inside until I could not hold them any longer again. I wanted to be rid of them, and I thought allowing myself to feel it— feel the pain, the pressure, the hollowness building up inside me, would help me let it go. The problem was not that I was allowing myself to feel it; if I had ignored it, it would only have made it worse with time. Ignorance is not bliss when it comes to mental health. But looking back, I am disappointed I did not fight harder. Accepting what I was feeling, and allowing myself to feel those things was the right thing to do. However, I made a mistake by letting fear get the best of me. I caved into those emotions and I let them consume me. Perhaps, if I had tried to take deep breaths, seek help, and practice coping skills when it was hardest, I would not have lived in that spiral for so long.
You see, I wasn’t actually trapped there, I just let myself think I was. Because if I let myself think I was trapped, then I was the victim, not the perpetrator. It was easier to think the battle was coming at me, instead of from inside me. Only recently, after years of therapy, have I come to realize how much my own mind was and still is my enemy. I have stopped trying to take pity on myself, to make up excuses for what I could only see as weakness. It is a constant battle, trying to shut down the judgemental thoughts that try to cloud my mind, but fighting it has taught me I need to accept myself. I need to come to peace with where I am right now, to accept I have flaws and weaknesses and I do not need to act like they are nonexistent. But I also need to hold myself accountable, by questioning whether what I tell myself is really true and choosing what not to believe.
I have realized this is an illness, and much like a physical illness I can not blame myself for it. But I also have a choice about how I respond to it. If I give in, I know for certain I will never heal, but if I fight, even if I can never get rid of it, I can at least learn to live with it. I can prevent it from taking away more of my dignity and self-worth. Most importantly, I can allow for the wounds inside of me to heal. So, I take deep breaths daily and practice various other coping skills I have been taught, whether I am feeling an attack closing in or not. By doing this, I am letting my mind recognize that I am not going to cower to the battle it presents me with, and when it tries to jump up at me unexpectedly, I will be ready to face it. Coping skills may be challenging to embrace, but no matter how small they seem in the face of an illness, they have the power to heal.
Breathe in. One. Two. Three… I begin counting in my head until five seconds have passed. Breathe out. I repeat these steps three times, until my shoulders begin to relax, my heart feels a little less pressure, my mind stops reeling up new lies. It has taken me years to develop a habit of doing this. When I first started, it simply did not seem to work. I would only remember about it when I had already lost control. Every time I tried to take a deep breath, it felt like I was drowning deeper into my pain. I could not get my body to focus on holding in a breath when I had already gone into flight mode, my hands shaking, my heart beating as though I would run a mile, and my lungs gasping for air.
It only served to make me feel more trapped in my body; I wanted, needed air but I was scared that if I let myself calm down, I would be shutting off the feelings just long enough for them to pile up inside until I could not hold them any longer again. I wanted to be rid of them, and I thought allowing myself to feel it— feel the pain, the pressure, the hollowness building up inside me, would help me let it go. The problem was not that I was allowing myself to feel it; if I would have ignored it, it would only have made it worse with time. Ignorance is not a bliss when it comes to mental health. But looking back, I am disappointed I did not fight harder. Accepting what I was feeling, and allowing myself to feel those things was the right thing to do. However, I made a mistake by letting fear take the best of me. I caved into those emotions and I let them consume me. Perhaps, if I had tried to take deep breaths, to seek help, practice coping skills when it was hardest I would not have lived in that spiral for so long.
You see, I wasn’t actually trapped there, I just let myself think I was. Because if I let myself think I was trapped, then I was the victim, not the perpetrator. It was easier to think the battle was coming at me, than from inside me. Only recently, after years of therapy, have I come to realize how much my own mind was and still is my enemy. I have stopped trying to take pity on myself, to make up excuses for what I could only see as weakness. It is a constant battle, trying to shut down the judgemental thoughts that try to cloud my mind, but fighting it has taught me I need to accept myself. I need to come to peace with where I am at right now, to accept I have flaws and weaknesses and I do not need to act like they are nonexistent. But I also need to hold myself accountable, questioning whether what I tell myself is really true, and then choosing not to believe them.
I have realized this is an illness, and much like a physical illness I can not blame myself for it. But I also have a choice about how I respond to it. If I give in, I know for certain I will never heal, but if I fight, even if I can never get rid of it, I can at least learn to live with it. I can prevent it from taking away from me more of my dignity and self-worth. But most importantly, I can allow for the wounds inside of me to heal. So I take deep breaths daily and practice various other coping skills I have been taught, whether I am feeling an attack closing it or not. By doing this, I am letting my mind recognize that I am not going to cower to the battle it presents me with, and when it tries to jump up at me unexpectedly, I will be ready to face it. To conclude, coping skills may be challenging to embrace but no matter how small they seem in the face of an illness, they have power to heal.
Written by Bruna Souza, a Youth MOVE Massachusetts Youth Advocate
