Tag: anxiety

Permission

Kristine Binder

“Your hair is gorgeous! Who does your hair? Is she close by?”
That’s how the conversation started in the gym locker room as I was pulling my hair into a ponytail before my workout. I was wearing the same sweatshirt all day—the one with “You are loved” written across the back. And maybe that message was quiet, unspoken permission. Permission to be kind. Permission to notice. Permission to start a conversation.
What followed was one of those easy, ordinary exchanges—hair, products, color, cuts, all the things women talk about when we’re standing in front of mirrors together. We laughed, chatted for a few minutes, and then went our separate ways to get our workouts in.
About an hour later, I walked into the sauna. And there she was again. When one of the other women left it, was just the two of us…..
She then asked how my workout went, and just like that, we picked up where we left off. And then, without warning, her voice cracked. Today was her birthday. A big one. Fifty. And she had no one to celebrate with other than her parents. The tears came quickly, the kind that have been waiting for permission to fall.
So I listened.
She talked about feeling behind, about what she thought her life “should” look like by now, about all those inner comparisons that show up on milestone birthdays. And then she said something that stopped me in my tracks—that she felt I was meant to walk into that locker room that today so she wouldn’t feel so alone on her birthday.
When it was my turn to speak, I gently reframed some of the things she was saying about herself—offering a different lens, one rooted in compassion instead of judgment. At one point she smiled and said, “I never thought about it that way.” And that moment mattered…..to both of us.
Because here’s the thing: people don’t always need answers or advice. What they need is to feel seen. To feel heard. To feel like they matter.
I don’t believe in coincidences. I believe in God-incidences. Moments where paths cross on purpose, even when we don’t realize it at first. And today felt like one of those moments—one quiet reminder that showing up, listening, and letting someone know they matter can make a bigger difference than we’ll ever realize. Life is funny like that.

Here

Kristine Binder

I’ve spent most of my life living everywhere except the present.
If I’m honest, being here has always felt unfamiliar — even unsafe. My mind learned early that it was better to stay busy traveling through time: backward into analysis, forward into fear. If I wasn’t replaying what already happened, I was scanning the horizon for what might go wrong next.
I told myself that was responsibility.
That it was preparation.
That it was being smart.
It wasn’t.
It didn’t protect me.
It didn’t prevent pain.
It didn’t make me safer.
All it did was keep me from actually living the life that was happening right in front of me.
Not being present has not served me well. It has cost me peace, softened moments, and entire stretches of time I can’t get back. It has kept me braced instead of open, vigilant instead of curious, exhausted instead of grounded.
Part of presence, for me, is letting go of control.
I’ve wanted to control everything — outcomes, conversations, relationships, timing — because control felt like safety. If I could anticipate every possible problem, maybe I could avoid the worst of it. But when I can’t control something — and so much of life can’t be controlled — my brain jumps straight to catastrophe. I rehearse disasters that haven’t happened and may never happen, as if fear itself is a form of armor.
It isn’t.
Being here means trusting that worry is not preparedness.
It means understanding that anxiety doesn’t equal foresight.
It means choosing intention over survival mode.
Presence asks something different of me. It asks me to notice instead of anticipate. To respond instead of brace. To breathe instead of grip tighter.
I want to wake up and feel the morning instead of immediately reviewing the past or forecasting the future. I want to notice the way light moves across a room, the sound of a laugh, the quiet moments that pass unnoticed when I’m stuck in my head.
I don’t want to live in hindsight or hypotheticals anymore.
I want to be here.
Right now.
In the tiny details that actually make up a life.
Presence is not something I’ve mastered. It feels like a muscle I never learned how to use and am now strengthening one small moment at a time. Some days I catch myself drifting back into old patterns — analyzing, worrying, controlling — and other days I manage to stay.
But I know this much: the present moment is the only place I can actually live. It’s the only place joy exists. It’s the only place connection happens. And it’s the only place I get to choose how I show up.
For the rest of my life — however long it is, however it unfolds — I want to be present for it.
Not perfect.
Not fearless
Just here.
And for the first time, that feels like enough.

Peace,
#tutulady
#forwardisapace

Panic

Kristine Binder

Thursday, September 8, 2016

I guess I fell asleep at some point because I woke up alone in my bed. It was not the first time nor would it be the last.
I got ready for work. The plan was to push everything out of my head and get through the day.
I got the my son up and ready. We were in the kitchen when my wasband came in. I told my wasband that we needed to talk. He told me there was nothing to talk about. I can not remember what he said next….but it was something that raised the eyebrow of my son. My son turned and, for the first time I had ever seen, stood up to his father.
“Leave Mom alone! What the heck is wrong with you? Why can’t you be nice to her?”
“Son….remember who you are speaking to and watch your mouth….” and my wasband left the kitchen.
My son and I went to school without saying another word.
I did the best I could to get through the day but late in the afternoon, while teaching my class, I felt sick….like never before. I have panic attacks and anxiety. I have been in treatment for these issues as these episodes have had very dire consequences. I know what to expect. I have ‘coping skills’ and  meds to help. But this was different…..
I sent a student to get my partner teacher. My partner teacher and I had worked together for 15 years at that point. We KNEW each other. I remember I must have looked bad because the look on her face was one I had never seen before. She sent me into the hall as I tried to get my breath. She walked my students out of the room to their fine arts class and then ….
I melted down. I could not breathe. It was the panic attack to end all panic attacks. I was breathing into a paper bag and she was trying desperately to calm me down. She went to call 911 and I begged her not to……I finally regained control …..over an hour later.
She covered for me the whole time. Not only did I feel like a weak woman but I felt like a failure as a teacher. I needed to get it together.
I pulled myself together as much as possible and got through the reminder of the day. I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to go home that day or any day after that….but home was where my kids were and I knew I had to take care them. So I went home……
Here’s to soaring again….

Connection

Kristine Binder

2021 Pay-It-Forward:
The first five people to connect with me will receive from me, sometime within the calendar year, a handwritten note, perhaps with a gift attached. There will likely be no warning and it will happen whenever the mood strikes me.
Let’s all pay it forward this year!
🖊
Pay it forward!!
Let’s connect!! Peace, #tutulady #forwardisapace

Sleep

Kristine Binder

I have always been a morning person. Early bird catches the worm and all. I was never one to sleep the day away like my kids often do now. I do my best work in the morning and love to see the sunrise.
This time of year, my anxiety gets the better of my and I have trouble falling asleep and staying asleep. Insomnia is my constant companion. I worry about so many things at the holidays, making lists in my head, replaying conversations, and catastrophizing all that can happen. It is always an issue but this time of year it gets worse.
I have worked long and hard to calm my anxious thoughts and behaviors, but sleep is one of the most difficult. For years I would lie awake waiting for my wasband to arrive home. He worked nights and often went out drinking after work. I never knew what his mood would be when he arrived home and often slept on the edge of the bed afraid to even breathe. Mornings I would tiptoe out of the room as not to wake him and incur his wrath. I would keep the kids as quiet as I could for the same reason. It was a difficult dance for all of us.
For years after I left, I still had trouble sleeping and would get out of bed feeling like I had been in a fist fight. Every muscle ached…especially my hands.
One evening, my therapist mentioned that I looked more tired than usual and asked me to talk about it. As I spoke, she watched me then she asked me to lie on the floor and show her my sleep position. I did as she asked, hopeful she could provide insight into my insomnia.
She asked me to talk about each part of my body and how I felt. What I realized was that every single part of me body was tense, my whole body was in a tight ball, my shoulders were by my ears, and my hands were in fists.
She told me that I was a resting fighter, always vigilant. That I was ready to defend myself in while I was resting. I was not, in fact, really ever sleeping. My body and brain would not allow me to let me let my guard down. Trauma is stored in the body and appears in many different forms unless it is healed.
It has taken intentional practice to release that trauma and vigilance, letting others into my life. The boundaries are firm, walls are high, guarded fiercely to protect myself and those I love. I am keenly aware of my body and its cues when it comes to sleep and other trauma responses. During the holidays, insomnia wants to not just visit but stay. So when the insomnia rears its head I can say hello and send it packing again, not allowing it to overstay its welcome.
Trauma takes many forms. With the help of others, we can identify as well as address the issues in order to find hope and healing. This is an ongoing process as healing is not linear. We are all in the process of becoming stronger humans. With some help, and some sleep, we can all find peace.
Peace.
#tutulady
#forwardisapace