Just Lean Into It

When I know I’m ready for sleep I hear this whooshing sound course through my head. Ear to ear. Like the ‘waves’ you hear in a conch shell, only louder and surround sound.

Sleep for me is a tricky bedfellow. I tuck in every night so exhausted from my day, looking forward to the moment I can finally drift off. Then I find myself being led around by my hungry mind. Always trying to understand. Always trying to problem solve. Some of my best ideas and straight-up epiphanies come in this sleepless haze, but that’s the only benefit of insomnia.

It’s funny the things we learn about ourselves. I’m certain this sound of sleep has been an indicator for my entire life, but I missed its significance. Now, when I hear the waves of slumber, I let go into it. I ride it out. If I ignore this sign from my psyche, I can miss the swell and be up rattling around in my mind for hours more.

I’ve found in most things; this is the only way through. It’s going along with it, not fighting against it. I’ve experienced panic attacks almost all of my life. Not knowing what they were for a very long time, I still found ways to cope. Breathe, just breathe, I would calm myself. When my daughter had her mental health crisis, and I was her caregiver, the attacks became unmanageable. They became mountainous and blinding. I had panic attacks about being afraid of having panic attacks. I was terrified to go out because I thought people could tell I was fractured, and the thought of that would bring on another panic attack.

Big Daddy Ric gave me some advice that made all the difference. He told me to go with it, instead of fighting it. I had been feeding it with my fear. At the first inkling of an attack, I would be overcome with terror. I’d try and stop it from happening in any way I could, and I fought valiantly. I had every goddamn reason under the stars to be having panic attacks. Trying to keep my baby girl alive and using everything I had to do so. Grasping at all the pieces of myself and trying to keep them together so I could be what she needed during her darkest days. I was doing my best.

Taking his advice the next time it happened, I leaned into the awful, gut-twisting, breath-stealing, heart-exploding feeling that washed over me. Eating psilocybin and letting go for the ride was the strategy Big Daddy suggested. He reminded me that whether I rolled with it, or fought against it, it would pass. To my astonishment, it worked. Like a breaker of a wave, it swelled, then pitched me over the falls into a definable descent. When I battled against the panic attack, it lasted anywhere from a half hour to an hour. Letting the current take me, it was over within a few minutes. His advice had seemed counterintuitive, but it made all the difference. The attacks almost completely ceased after using this new method, and now it’s very rare for me to have an attack at all.

I’ve recently applied this strategy to many areas of my existence. The more I have used it, the more it has worked. By meeting obstacles with hostility, I wasn’t acknowledging that everything in my life starts and ends with me. I’ve wrestled with problems, struggles and annoyances, but I came to realize I was only grappling with myself. When I accept these struggles with love and forgiveness, they soften. No one can fight against their nature, physique, personality, or life challenges, and expect to truly win. When I chose to assimilate the things I ‘hate’ about myself, my body, or my circumstances, when I decided to own them as my own, I succeeded in ways I didn’t think possible. If there’s something you’re warring with in your life, send it love. You might be surprised. If I can love this crazy bitch, I think all of you can love your perfectly imperfect selves too. What would the world be like then?

Leah Marguerite