The one thing I decided to do to avoid wearing myself out in unfamiliar places

No two days start under the same conditions.
This is especially true in April, the start of the new fiscal year. Even before work begins, the air feels a little tense.

I have worked in places where what worked in the past is not guaranteed to work today.

The people I meet wherever I go, the roles required of me that day, and the temperature of the atmosphere in the room are all different. Just by the volume of the voices I hear the moment I open the door, or the sense of how busy it is, I realize that the landscape of the day is completely different from the past. It is not rare for me to spend my mornings rearranging my priorities in my head to match the ever-changing situation.

Every time I feel that difference in the air on my skin, my heart wears down a little bit more.

While facing these changes, I must perform my duties without letting others realize that my foundation is shaking. Before I know it, there are mornings when I find myself tensing my shoulders more than necessary, forgetting to breathe, and thinking about my next move.

Amidst such changes, there is only one thing I have decided to do to avoid wearing myself out.

That is to breathe.

Once I stand in that place, I find myself moving naturally to meet the demands placed upon me.
While reading the atmosphere around me, I think about what should be prioritized now, and I somehow manage to get through the things in front of me one by one.

However, that unconscious effort manifests in my body little by little, without a sound.

The moment the taut thread of tension suddenly loosens, a sharp pain shoots through the back of my head. I quickly take a headache pill on the spot, and the pain temporarily subsides.

Even after the medicine kicks in and I can work normally, my shoulders and neck remain stiff from the tension and responsibility.

When I am busy, I can even deceive myself about my own physical ailments.

It was common for me to only realize the heaviness of my own body once the weekend arrived.

When I am giving it my all, I am not breathing.

When I get so desperate to handle what is right in front of me, I realize my breathing has become shallow, and I get the feeling that oxygen isn't reaching every corner of my body.

Even if they are small, trivial things, when they pile up, the sense of discomfort that arises within me becomes larger than I had anticipated.

When I couldn't keep up with changes and my heart was deeply shaken, I used to try to just keep moving forward.

However, I am different now.

I quietly place myself in a spot where there are few people and close my eyes for a moment. I exhale deeply, as if breathing out all the tension that had accumulated deep inside my body. From there, I inhale quietly and steadily.

After repeating this slow breathing a few times, I feel as if the fog in my brain is clearing little by little. The thoughts that were about to be swept away settle down, and I can see what I need to do right now.

Instead of rushing to find an answer, I first return myself to my own space. This was the most important step.

I try to take a fresh look at breathing, something I should have been doing without even thinking about it.

I realized that just by being mindful of ordinary 'breathing,' I can return to my starting point at any time.

The small breath I discovered became a foundation for not losing sight of myself, no matter what happens.

Just a few seconds, unnoticed by anyone. Deep in my ears, only my own breathing echoes quietly. That 'breathing space' protects me just before I wear myself out.

Today, too, I take a breath before heading out.

To walk through my day in peace.