“I’m Going to Live Until…”
A Quiet Ritual That Helped Me Through Panic
There was a time when my anxiety convinced me I wouldn’t make it through the night.
Not in a dramatic way. In a very real, very convincing way.
My body felt like it was shutting down, my chest tight, my thoughts spiralling, and no matter how many times I had felt it before, it always felt different.
Worse. Final.
So I created something small. A quiet ritual.
Not to “fix” the anxiety, but to gently anchor myself back into a future I was still part of.
I call it: “I’m going to live until…”
Better mind games to play
I’m not sure when I first began this practice, but I know I have used it during many anxiety attacks.
It started during a time when my son was still in primary school, I think he was about eight years old. I would lie awake at night, convinced I wouldn’t make it until morning.
So I began to speak to myself, softly, deliberately:
“I am going to make myself a cup of tea tomorrow.
In the green cup. Pour the milk. Add two sugars.”
(I will be here in the morning.)
“I am going to wear my white T-shirt with the bees on it when I go watch my son play cricket on Tuesday.”
(I will be here in a few days.)
“I am going to buy a new notebook from The Papery to write this down in”
(I will be here next month.)
And then further…
“I am going to stand with my son for his start-of-year school photo.”
(I will be here for the next school year.)
“I am going to help him choose his suit for his matric dance.”
(I will be here through his teenage years.)
“I am going to help him move into his university digs.”
(I will be here for his next chapter.)
“I am going to give his fiancé white tulips at her bridal shower.”
(I will be here when he falls in love.)
“I am going to rub noses with my grandchild and teach them butterfly kisses.”
(I will be here for the next generation.)
“I am going to sit at their 18th birthday and tell stories about when their dad was small.”
(I will be here, old and still part of it all.)
How to use this as a tool
Step 1: Start Small
- “I am going to wake up tomorrow and…”
Step 2: Move a little further
- "Next week I will .... "
Step 3: Stretch the timeline
- "Next month…"
- "At the end of the year..."
- "One day I will ... "
A final Thought
At the time I started using this, it wasn’t something I thought through.
It was instinct.
A way of stretching my timeline when my mind was trying to collapse it into right now.
Each sentence became a small thread, tying me to tomorrow, next week, next year… a future that anxiety was trying to take away from me.
My son is turning twenty this year.
And I’m still here.
Photo by Juliane Liebermann on Unsplash. Image by BiancaVanDijk from Pixabay
