maybe you’re having a panic attack, maybe you’re dissociating or maybe you’re just stressing.
here is something i found really helps in those moments:
Move from the place you are in right now, take a step back and find a more comfortable position
be patient, and be mindful that it will not go away with the snap of a finger. this is a wave, and you have to ride it
close your eyes, focus first on your breath, and the beatings of your heart. count to 10 very slowly
now open your eyes, don’t let the fear stop you, take ten seconds to notice the world around you, name the first things that you see, or just try to memorize where it is and how it looks
now close your eyes again, Count to 10 and slowly breathe, let your thoughts flow and don’t cling on to them, they will still be on your mind, but they have to flow freely
open your eyes again, look at the same object that your saw before, notice it is still on the same place, nobody moved it, it is the same color.
notice more things around you, notice how everything is ok, and you are not going through an extreme situation, count another slow 10
Close your eyes again and keep repeating this, keep noticing and naming more things, notice the sounds, the smells and the textures around you. Ground yourself in the reality of the moment.
After a while of doing this you will probably eventually have ridden the wave into a more calm state. Don’t be fooled, the waves can and will come again. but it’s all about learning how to grab a surfboard and ride them. It’s about taking comfort in the spaces of time they are not there, and get busy, get active, so you can regain, in time, the opportunity to a good life that was given to you.
Look, I’ve never felt any pressure from you that I co-parent, but your idea that I take no responsibility in raising your child is naive.
It’s not that I think you’re not capable of raising a child on your own. Of course you are. But short of us dissolving our partnership, I’m not capable of not being involved.
Not as the child’s father, but as its mother’s friend.
Self misgendering is gonna happen, but it’s okay! It takes awhile for the people around you to pick it up and you’re no different. You’re not fake becuase of it. Getting out of a habit is difficult! Go easy on yourself!
Positive vibrations have just been sent to you. They are now travelling into your eyes, through your brain, and towards the very core of your being. As they move through you, they cleanse everything left in their path. Everything is left pure.
A/N: So, I have no clue where this came from but it’s here and I’m giving it to you. It’s small, and kind of random but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Remember to let me know what you think. ALSO COMMENT! I AM AN ATTENTON SEEKING COMMENT WHORE. I miss your comments. They give me life. I love you all. I hope you enjoy!
Leave it to fans to reveal all of Tom’s secrets.
Everyone who has ever had to get on a plane has had to go through the whole ordeal of undressing layers and handing over loose belongings before walking through a metal detector. All of your stuff goes through the small x-ray before you collect it on the other side, putting on shoes and jackets and shoving everything back into your pockets so that the person behind you doesn’t have to wait for you.
Tom was used to it, what with constantly flying to different countries while on tour. He didn’t give it a second thought as he shrugged off his flannel and emptied his pockets of everything. Sure, there was a small hoard of fans watching his every move, but they were behaving themselves so they weren’t a problem.
They weren’t a problem until weeks later, when a video one of them took began to circulate Twitter and Tumblr and any other social media with a fan page dedicated to him.
The video was seemingly normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Until the red object in his hands flashed across the screen, tumbling into the bin before disappearing altogether. It was visible for all of half of a second, but it caught the attention of someone. That someone shared their theory with someone else, and before anyone had time to breath, the entirety of his fan base was debating on the topic.
Whole twitter threads with zoomed in pictures, slowed down video footage, and several miscellaneous screenshots of google information and pictures were dedicated to the video and the red object he placed in the bin. Tom was absolutely appalled that something so menial had blown up so large, but that was the life of a celebrity.
Nothing is small to the general public. Especially fans.
The object was an inhaler. Specifically, a red Proair HFA albuterol sulfate rescue inhaler.
Why would Tom Holland have an inhaler? Does Tom have asthma? People use inhalers if they have anxiety too. Does Tom have anxiety? The questions never stopped, just a continuous loop of theories and asks and wondering people.
Harrison was the first person to ask about it, sitting in the passenger seat of Tom’s car as they drove down the road. He’d looked up from his phone, stared at his friend for a beat and then blurted out with it.
“Why do you carry an inhaler?”
Tom’s mom and dad were the next to ask, glancing at each other over the dinner table as Tom spooned his food into his mouth.
“Why do you have an inhaler, Tom?” The whole table froze, all eyes turning toward the eldest Holland child.
Zendaya sent a text, attached was a screenshot of some post with side-by-side photos of the zoomed in video footage and a google image of an inhaler.
“You have an inhaler???” It said.
Interviewers asked and his co-stars asked and everyone asked. You were the very last one to ask.
Tom’s fingers combed through your hair, his other hand resting comfortably on the curve of your hip as you lay curled up next to him, your head in his lap. There was a movie playing but to be perfectly honest, you hadn’t focused on a single, solitary minute of it since your boyfriend started playing with your hair.
There wasn’t anything that prompted the question, no noise or image that made the thought pop into your mind. The TV was saying something you weren’t paying attention to, Tessa sat just a few steps away, you could hear your own breathing with your ear pressed against one of Tom’s legs. Everything was mundane and pleasant and peaceful with nothing to suggest the topic to you, but you thought it anyways.
“Tom?” His fingers never halted, just continued their distracting fidgeting.
“Why do you have an inhaler?” His fingers paused for a fraction of a second before he chuckled. You rolled over onto your back, looking up into his eyes. They crinkled just a little as he smiled down at you.
“Of all people, I thought you would realize why.” He patted your shoulder and you sat up, watching him reach deep into his pocket to produce the said object. It lay in the middle of his palm, a Spider-Man sticker plastered on the side.
“Your back up inhaler?” He twisted it around, laughing. You looked back up at him from beneath your lashes, a small fluttering beginning in the pit of your chest.
“I took it when you asked me to get your prescription refilled about five months ago. They gave me two so I just replaced your back up with the new one and took this.” He shoved the inhaler back in his pocket as the fluttering feeling spread through your torso.
“You’re always so forgetful, the amount of times you’ve lost your actual inhaler is catastrophic. I always meant to ask if you’d want to leave one with me, just so I always have a back up for you. Now I just carry it with me everywhere.” He shrugged, looking at you like it wasn’t that big of a deal.
And maybe it wasn’t. Maybe you were being an over dramatic baby, but the thought of him always carrying your back up inhaler with him incase you ever needed it sent butterflies flying across all of your nerves.
“You’re too good for me.” You mumbled, curling into his side. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling your legs across his lap as you nuzzled your head beneath his chin.
“I just care about you, love.”
“You always do everything right.” His arms tightened around you.
“No that’s you.” Tom kissed the top of your head.
“The fact that you have to carry an inhaler because I’m forgetful and because my lungs don’t function properly means that you are wrong.”
“Shut up and take the compliment, (Y/N).” He laughed.
Many people cannot allow themselves the time to sit and do nothing but breathe. They consider it to be uneconomical or a luxury. People say “time is money.” But time is much more than money. Time is life. The simple practice of sitting quietly on a regular basis can be profoundly healing. Stopping and sitting is a good way to focus on mindful breathing and nothing else.