As a mostly functional adult—with a job, a kid, and the whole kit and caboodle—I’m still amazed at how often I have to remind myself to breathe. You’d think it’s something that should come naturally, right? But in any tense situation, it’s like I forget how to do it entirely. I either hold my breath without realizing it, or I start breathing too fast, and both lead to all kinds of weird symptoms and tension in my body.
Today was one of those days. I’m in a much better place than I was a year ago, but there I was again, spending most of the day silently counting in my head: “2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6… and breathe out.” Who knew I’d become so good at multitasking? It’s almost second nature now—calmly chatting on a Zoom call while also coaching myself through basic breathing exercises.
I’ve made peace with it more these days, but I still miss the times when breathing just happened without a second thought. It’s a strange kind of nostalgia, longing for something so simple that I never even noticed before.