Breathing is good. It gets me through the day. Occasionally, on days like today, I focus intently on breathing.
This morning I struggled with a piece due tomorrow, tried to catch up on four days' worth of backlogged submissions for the book, fit in speech therapy for Snuggler, dealt with kids' leftover emotions from Eldest's departure, edited some truly gnarly pieces, battled the piece due tomorrow again, and then... then I got an email about the book asking if the deadline is 10/1.
No. The deadline is 11/5. That's 67 days from now, and I need every one of them.
So I breathe. In and out, in and out. Big-belly breaths, slow and focused. I cannot afford the luxury of panic; freaking out wastes time. I breathe purpose and calmness into my heart. I re-find my center, re-find my equanimity. Being a praying person, I pray as I breathe, inhaling the consolation and companionship that are as essential to me as air. Ten years from now I will not remember the details of today's stress, but I will (hopefully) still be breathing.
It helps to focus on the things that will last.