Tag Archives: staying present

A Meditation on Panic

Breathe in. This is panic. Breathe out. Panic feels like this.

I spent 40 minutes tonight meditating on the experience of panic. Something about my day set off the cascade of emotions and body sensations that I call panic – racing pulse, tightness in my chest, cascading thoughts, an edge of tears. I knew today was going to be hard. The rush to leave town is always hard, and I’d packed in an unreasonable amount of responsibilities into a 12 hour period. I’d spent the weekend partying with friends, so I was less prepared for Monday morning than I like to be. So when everything I’d planned took longer than anticipated, and I realized that I was going to be working much later into the evening than I would like, I freaked.

Even when I anticipate the hard, the bodily experience still overwhelms me. I can rationalize as much as I want, and I worked this strategy hard today. “This time tomorrow you’ll be on the boat. This time tomorrow all this will be put into perspective. In the broader scheme of things, will you even remember any of these things you are so frantic about today?” But rationalizations totally miss the irrational experience of panic.

I went to the dharma center tonight, mostly because I was too pissed to let my work interfere with my meditation practice. As I drove to the center, the tears welled up as I let myself feel the overwhelm that I’d been holding at bay all day. I arrived, sat down, and closed my eyes. Breathe in. Ah, panic. Breathe out. I see you, panic.

I sometimes expect meditation to “fix” my emotions for me. But breathing did not make panic subside. Panic increased when I actually let myself feel it. I let the tears flow as silently as I could, worried that I was interrupting other people’s time for silent meditation with my need to sob.

I covered my face. Oh oh oh, I’m so ashamed. Ashamed? I thought we were feeling panic? Why is shame showing up? I’ve learned to ask less questions, and just go with it. Breathe in. Ah, shame. Breathe out. Shame feels like this. I’m letting so many people down. So many depending on me, and I told them I would be there for them. And I’m not. They are expecting me to be there for them, and I’m dropping the ball. So many old feelings, old messages, old ways of being.

As I let the shame cascade, so little of it is about now. And that finally helps me feel a little better, knowing that I’m letting go of some old feelings, and I’m not really feeling that panicked and ashamed of my current situation. It’s hard when current situations trigger old feelings – my rational mind kept saying, “Really, I don’t think things are that bad. So why the hell are you freaking out so much?” And while my rational mind was completely correct, it was also true that my body & emotional self had some old freaking out to do.

Breathe in. Feel. Breathe out. Feel.

Distracting Food

I set an intention this month to relish pleasure in my life, and thus renounce mindless pleasure seeking. The primary place I struggle with this is eating food. I love good food, but so seldom allow myself to really enjoy it. I often sit down to eat with a television program or a book, distracting my mind with other pleasures rather than focusing on the pleasure at hand. It’s a long-standing habit, and is related to my use of food to numb out my feelings. Adding other distractions to the food allows me to feel even more numb and distracted, which helps me feel safe and less overwhelmed.

Mmmmmm ... cookies!I made a small batch of no-bake cookies last night, one of my favorite foods from childhood. For every cookie, I’ve sat down specifically to enjoy the cookie. I look at it closely, and sometimes smell it to add to my anticipation. I take that first bite and let the oatmeal roll around in my mouth so I can taste the mixture of chocolate and almond butter that permeates the cookies. They are small cookies, perfect for finishing in three bites before I get distracted from the task of tasting. Even just sitting with the taste of those cookies for a few seconds feels like an eternity. Unfortunately, it’s not in a way that is an eternity of pleasure. It’s more a terror in staying in the present moment, a desire to check out as soon as I can, a worry that if I stop being able to check out with cookies, I’ll stop being able to check out when life is just too overwhelming.