I do it all wrong. If there was a breathing exam I would score a "D". Apparently. That's what I'm told. Apparently that's what is wrong with me. I am not very good at Breathing. In fact,
Here's me thinking I have a problem with my ears... you know sensitivity to sound which brings on hideous panic attacks... but the ear specialist guy says No. It's just that I Don't Breathe Very Good.
He tried to explain it... something to do with stress... makes me breathe in my chest instead of my "Diesel Engine Diaphragm" and so I end up breathing rapidly and there's some kind of chemical thing and somehow I end up sensitive to noise and freaking out.
Apparently there's a place I can go to learn how to breathe but sadly, there's nothing he can do to help me with my personality(!) and my Olympic prowess as an anxious worrier(!)
Boy did I feel stupid. I backed out of the specialist's office blinking back tears and feeling like a crazy nonce, a Hysterical Housewife who just never learnt to breathe and couldn't take the pressure of life as a stay-at-home mum with three kids and a nice husband.
It's OK, it's fixable, the Specialist reassured me.
Somehow I don't feel reassured. I mean it's taken me 10 years to drag myself this far. I was really hoping for something straightforward like: Oh yes, your ears are very waxy, just get them syringed and you'll be able to rejoin the human race.
Or perhaps: Well madam, in your case we do recommend surgically removing your ears; that should fix the problem and you will then be able to sit with your husband in church instead of up at Starbucks til the music is finished.
But no. No Easy Fix. No Magic Bullet. Nothing actually wrong with my ears that an immunity to stress and an ability to breathe wouldn't fix.
So all I have to do is eliminate stress from my life *guffaw* *snort* *chortle* (sounds of hysterical laughter)... oh yes and learn to breathe.