I first began to notice anxiety in my mid thirties, still new to my spiritual path. After attending a weekend class where a significant piece of old programming released, I went home and began to integrate the shift.
The next day I noticed an odd feeling in my chest. It wasn’t something I remembered experiencing before. There was a pronounced stirring in my breast area. My heart felt jittery, like it could take off racing at any time. My chest was tight, and I had difficulty drawing a full breath. My respirations felt shallow, like they were mostly happening at the very top of my lungs.
Because of the timing, I intuitively knew the body sensations were related to the workshop. A part of my being was reacting to a piece of energy work that occurred over the weekend. I was at a loss for what it might be. My body was having its own set of reactions I felt powerless to shift. I no longer had control over my body.
It was hard to settle when I felt like this, and I did the only thing I knew to do. I went for a walk.
When I was walking along the river, I noticed my chest wasn’t as jittery and I could breathe more easily. Periodically, I would sit on a park bench and watch the ice floes bobbing on the current. It was spring and chunks of ice were breaking away upstream and getting swept down the Baraboo River. As I meditated on this, I realized nature was mirroring my process. The shift from the class had begun to thaw my heart, just like ice further upriver had begun to thaw. And just like the chunks of ice broke loose and traveled downstream, the frozen chunks of old programming also broke free and began to release. Even in my pain and discomfort, I recognized this as beneficial.
I walked along the river a lot that week.
Somewhere during this process, I reached out to my teacher and described what was happening. He suggested it might be anxiety. I was shocked because I didn’t believe myself to be anxious. I had never consciously noticed this feeling before. Or maybe I had. Perhaps I had just come home to my body enough that I could feel it.
Eventually the discomfort passed, and my body calmed down.
After that when I experienced stress or transitions in my life, I would notice other puzzling body sensations. Once it was a twisting and gurgling in my belly. Another time, I woke in the middle of the night with shortness of breath. I panicked and wondered if I was dying. This happened a few nights in a row.
For the first few seconds I came awake in the wee hours I was calm, but then my stress response engaged and I would feel the stress hormones flooding into my system, triggering a cascade of discomfort. I discovered that breathing slowly and deeply would help. There were many nights I breathed deeply for an hour or more until I quieted myself enough to fall back to sleep.
Eventually I realized that these experiences were also anxiety. I didn’t initially connect the dots because it presented differently than the jittery feelings in the chest.
Anxiety is sly. It can creep up on us, and it can morph and take many forms. Over time, I learned to recognize my old friend anxiety.
Years later, I still experience anxiety, especially when I go through periods of deep release, expansion, or new beginning. I notice my body sensations because they cue me to what is happening. My go-to tools remain those I discovered in my first instances of anxiety – going for a walk, breathing deeply, and reaching out to a trusted advisor for support.
I remain committed to doing my personal healing work even when it’s uncomfortable. But now I am more conscious of holding space for myself during the anxious times. I have more tools at my disposal, and I’m aware the feeling is transitory. I trust it will eventually pass through. For me, the growth is worth it.
This work is real, and it matters.
January 27, 2022