My anxiety was evident enough. It was not that body out of sorts, but not really aware of it. No, it was upset stomach and farting all day kind of anxiety. I silently apologized to all of the folks sitting in proximity to me during our six-hour flight to Long Beach.
While Boston was an escape from my life and much of the drama therein, it was not a prototypical exercise in avoidance. I agreed to serve on the Ministerial Fellowship Committee . I’m proud of the work that I do there, and the work that our collective body does.. Yet the prospect of returning home threw my body into a bit of a tailspin and left me to negotiate the occasional, mild chest pain and the aforementioned intestinal distress.
So, what was bugging me? I could not nail down any particular thing. There were no particularly worrisome or incessant thoughts on my mind. I chose to not invite more anxiety into my person and turned my focus to my breathing. In for 6 , hold for 1, out for 8, hold for 1, repeat. The relief that I hoped for stood me up, so I sat in my seat. The seatbelt keeping my body close enough to the seat such turbulence would not rip me too far from the seat’s padded comfort.