For years, I’ve found riding the New York City subway frustrating.

(Which many straphangers will affirm.)

But my angst goes beyond delays, over-crowded trains and panhandlers, expected in a city of millions.

My anxiety cuts to the core of my being, and unless you have a similar tendency, you’ll never understand.

You see, I’m claustrophobic.

When a train stops in between stations, even for a few seconds, it feels like hours, exciting all the symptoms of my phobia: anxiety, disorientation, paranoia, shortness of breath (feelings of suffocation), sweats, closing walls and tightening clothes (like a straight jacket).

Actually, you can multiply these effects by ten on a crowded train, or I fixate my thinking on terrorist attacks.

This is something I’ve dealt with for years.

I’d routinely ride trains while praying they wouldn’t stop and grit my teeth when they did.

Yes, I suffered. Until I let fear educate me.

That’s right.

Everything changed when I accepted reality and started focusing on my mental responses.

After years of dedicated self-work and consistent progress, I realized there was a lot I needed to learn (and there always will be).

If I raised the bar just a little, and my comfort zone disrupted, I was an emotional novice right back at square one.

But I decided to no longer be a prisoner of my mind.

I began practicing mindfulness techniques on the train. Basically, this meant (slowly) counting breaths (inhaling and exhaling through my nose), while consciously watching my fears arise and dissipate in my mind’s eye.

I learned to stop worrying about what could happen, and to embrace the unknown.

I affirmed that, “tragic happens, I can handle it. Because everything is a part of life, they’re actually no surprises. Either way, I’d be all right,”

Overtime I applied this approach to my daily life, and not just during times of stress.

I no longer cared about outcomes and experienced the sensations of now.

As a result, I have achieved a new sense of calm and inner peace that has enhanced every aspect of my life.

Now it’s your turn.

With grace,

Lori

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