So, things got pretty hectic for a while there, you know? Like, one thing after another, and my head was just spinning most days. Felt like I was constantly trying to catch up, but the finish line kept moving. I guess everyone feels that way sometimes, or maybe all the time, who knows anymore.
Anyway, I found myself in this loop. Wake up, stress kicks in, go through the day with this knot in my stomach, try to sleep, can’t, repeat. It was getting old, real fast. And all the usual advice, you know, “take a vacation,” “meditate for an hour,” “find a new hobby” – yeah, right. Like I had time or energy for any of that when I could barely remember to eat lunch.
Then came Willie.
It wasn’t like some big revelation or anything. I think I was just standing in the kitchen one morning, coffee machine gurgling, sun not even properly up, and I could already feel that familiar tension building. And out of nowhere, this phrase just popped into my head: “Just breathe, Willie.”
Now, I don’t have a dog named Willie. I don’t know anyone named Willie I’d be telling to breathe, not really. For a second, I even thought, “Where did that come from?” But then, I kinda just went with it. I stood there, took a deep breath, let it out slow, and mentally said it again, “Just breathe, Willie.”
It was so dumb, honestly. But something about it just… clicked. Maybe it was giving a name to that frazzled part of my brain. Like, “Okay, Willie, you’re freaking out again. Let’s just take a second here.” It made it feel a bit separate from me, if that makes any sense. Like I was talking to a stressed-out buddy instead of just being swallowed by my own anxiety.
So, I started doing it. Anytime I felt that pressure cooker feeling starting up – stuck in traffic, inbox exploding, another pointless meeting – I’d just pause. Sometimes I’d close my eyes, sometimes not. Just take one, two, maybe three deliberate breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. And in my head, there it was: “Just breathe, Willie.”
It wasn’t magic. My problems didn’t disappear. The emails still came, the traffic still sucked. But it was like creating this tiny little pocket of space. A moment to not be totally consumed by whatever was going on. It was like telling that frantic inner monologue to just pipe down for a second, give me a break.
Sometimes “Willie” wouldn’t listen, you know? Sometimes the stress was too loud, and the breathing just felt like, well, breathing. Didn’t do much. But I kept at it. Because on the days it did work, even a little bit, it was worth it. It became this small, almost silly ritual, but it was my ritual.
It’s funny, the things you latch onto when you’re just trying to get through the day. It wasn’t some fancy technique from a book or a workshop. It was just this weird phrase that showed up. But hey, whatever gets you through, right? And old Willie, imaginary or not, he still gets told to breathe a fair bit around here. Still works, mostly.