It Was Okay to Get Off One Stop Early

It was twelve minutes past eight, at a transfer point. I was standing squeezed in among the crowd when my chest suddenly tightened, my fingertips went cold, and the sounds around me seemed to move far away. I thought I was about to collapse. With so many people around me, I still felt trapped inside it all alone.

I got off at the next station and stood leaning against a wall. After a few minutes my body slowly settled. My mind didn't. The time for work was slipping by, and the only thing going around in my head was "What is wrong with me?"

The time my body remembers first

After that, the commute became frightening. When I stand in the same car at the same hour, my body remembers before I do. I tried leaving earlier. I tried walking one stop at a time. Some days were fine and some days weren't. Oddly, having good days confused me even more. I wondered if I was just weak, and that thought only tightened my breathing further.

I couldn't tell anyone at work. Every time I covered for being late by saying "the subway was crowded," it felt like a small lie piling up. I would sit down at my desk and open my email, and I was already worried about tomorrow morning. Once my body had been frightened, it seemed to be frightened ahead of time, even of a morning that hadn't come yet.

When I was worn out from searching for reasons on my own, I decided to go to a clinic. I wasn't going to judge what was right myself. I would ask someone who knows. It isn't the stage for talking about any results yet. But just having decided where to ask, my shoulders came down a little.

That evening I opened still() and read today's verse.

Don’t you be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you. Yes, I will help you. Yes, I will uphold you with the right hand of my righteousness.

Isaiah 41:10 (WEB)

At first, “Don’t you be afraid” was hard to read. I wondered what I was supposed to do about being afraid. But I stayed a long time with the sentences after it. They didn't read to me as a command to get rid of fear, but as a promise to be there in the place where I am afraid. For today, I thought that was enough.

Tomorrow, when I stand in that car, my body may react first. Even so, I decided to tell myself it's okay. If I need to get off, I can get off one stop early.

Today's breath — It's okay to get off at the next station once. Let out one long breath.