I want to wake up to the smell of an autumn breeze, rather than a pot of coffee.
I want to get my energy from the sunlight, rather than a high-protein breakfast.
I want to feel its reflection on my lashes and watch it slowly embrace my cornea, and the layers behind it.
I want the sound of chirping birds to serve as white noise—not the TV.
By this time, I want every nightmare and every anxious thought to have vanished.
I want to stretch my limbs with as many postures as I can, from my neck and shoulders to my arms and wrists. Then, I want to focus on my lower body—my lower back, thighs, calves and the tips of my toes.
I want to take in deep breaths, and during every exhale I want to inform my deflating heart that it’s going to be okay.
I want to sit alone and stare out the window, not because I am depressed or lonely, but because I intentionally want to be alone.
I want to talk to my mind by writing in my journal, rather than distracting it with a neglectful phone conversation.
I want to conclude my ritual by sending positive energy to my day, promising to be nice to myself, go easy on my heart, accept the things I can’t control and let go of the ones that don’t feed me.
I promise not to hide behind fabricated fears and use the word “anxiety” as an alibi to keep myself safe from invisible enemies. I promise to imagine a magic wand that mutes any high level noises I don’t like.
I promise to smile, a lot.
I promise to smile until I physically feel like every organ in my body is smiling.
I promise not to be a superhero, securing my own mask before tending to others as instructed on the plane.
I promise not to explain myself to people who don’t understand my sensitivity, and I also promise not to judge them for it.
I promise not to turn down new experiences and environments because of premeditated assumptions and fears.
I promise not let other people’s suffering bring me down, but rather to use my powers to bring them up.
I promise to try to wake up like this, every morning.
Author: Houry Seuk
Editor: Toby Israel