The pressure against your ribcage is now so severe that each breath must be forced in. It constricts your chest, leaving your heart to beat against it, each thump causing a ripple of discomfort across your skin. There’s not enough space. Your heart doesn’t fit your body. Perhaps it’s not even your body. It feels wrong. Alienated. Surely a heart fits the body. So why don’t yours?
You press your hand to your chest, eager to grab that invisible fist that lies between your lungs. Hoping to entangle your fingers in the weight then pull it from your being. But there’s nothing. You rub your knuckles over the chest bone. It hurts. Relief! Perhaps it is your body after all. Then you shouldn’t hurt it. Stop hurting it! You clench your fist. Breathe. Breathe instead.
Your breath and heart are unaligned. One if erratic and fast, the other hollow and empty. You try to steady them both. Inhaling slowly, deeply, all the way to the base of your stomach, feeling clothes shift over your skin. It’s your body. It - is - your - body. Then exhaling. More. More. You press that final air out. Let your lungs sting and ache. They’re your lungs.
The pressure doesn’t lift. The void has punched its fist to your chest and every heartbeat fills it, expands it. Every breath slows it, minimize it. Stuck between the two, it won’t let go. Tears sting your eyes. They come from nowhere. Fueled by everything. It’s wrong. It feels so wrong. Your heartbeat. Your breath. It doesn’t fit your body. It’s wrong. It’s all so wrong. You can’t breathe.
You run to the door. You must get out. You must get air.
Gravel crunch under your feet. Sunlight shimmers through the canopy. The forest is quiet. The air’s crisp. Fresh fall is over you. You breathe deeply. In. Out. You walk. Step after step. In. Step. Out. Step. In. Step. Out. Step.
Cool air hits your nostrils. Your heart beats stronger. It matches the pace of your march. It’s a purpose. Your purpose. Breathe. Walk. Feel the crunch of the path. Hear the tweet of the bird. Smell. Smell the forest. It’s smells of sunlight and rain. Damp moss and pine. It’s there and so are you. Breathe and walk. Your heart is beating. It’s beating in your chest. Your chest. It’s where it belongs. In your body. Breathe and walk.
The forest has healing powers. Your breath is the medicine. Breathe and walk. Until heart and lungs are aligned. Until the fist in your chest unclench it’s fingers, releasing the void that hollows your mind.