Anxiety feels like a disturbed ants nest in my chest.
Times like these I reach for peace. Not for pleasure.
To lull the ants back into their home for rest.
I have to actively bring calm to my being. I really have to focus.
I remember the first time I unknowingly calmed.
Out of sheer desperation, sheer salvation.
I was saturated in overwhelm. Drowning in debt and in shame. I was trying to keep my mouth above water.
Whilst simultaneously, trying to rescue another from himself.
Sitting in my office chair of my sensuality boutique, I had to close my eyes and really focus.
I followed my breath all the way down to my feet and twinkled my toes.
I just had to get present.
Like minute to minute fucking present.
I had to get so clear of where I was, where my feet where, what I was touching, what I could physically feel, in that very moment and know that I was safe. Physically safe.
“Breath in, breath out” I would...