The Art of Breathing

So… I’m back at the old folks’ house. And already more or less sucessfully beaten anxiety creeps back up on me. Wouldn’t be surprised, if I had a full blown panic attack one of these nights, like I had when I’d sleep in this room as a 9-year-old going forward.

The weather couldn’t be any more perfect. It’s a record breaking summer around here – and anxiety still gets to me….? So – I’m gonna crank the self-help up a notch. Been focussing on my breath whenever crossed boundaries would put me in jeopardy of losing control. I’ve more or less claimed “STOP!” when the stereo bombardment of questions, suggestions, ‘advice’, recommendations and whatnot had my throat close up.

And now I’m going to either find me someone and roll me a cigarette which I’ll ‘cannibalize’ and ‘modify’ later on. If…. that morsel of ‘lawn’ is still active. (I doubt it, it’s been around my home for a very long time).

Off to the lake now. Packing a patch of lawn.


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