Getting out the door—and closing the circle

Teresa Duston

21h • 🌱 6 Weeks

I wrote the first part of this while the panic was actually happening, to help myself settle and sort my thoughts.

I had a 1 p.m. appointment at the bank to open an account. At 12:35, I started getting ready.

Got my clothes.

Got my shoes.

No glasses.

No backup glasses… when was the last time I saw those?

I don’t always put my glasses on when I get up, and sometimes hours pass before I realize I’m not wearing them.

Panic set in. I raced through the bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen. I turned the recliner over to see whether they were underneath. While hunting for the glasses, I realized I didn’t have my driver’s license either. How in the heck can I open a bank account without it?

I’d been shuffling papers around during the week. Two days earlier, I had noticed that my license wasn’t back in my wallet. Did I retrieve it then? No. It was a sort of pseudo-registration in my brain.

Me: “Driver’s license not in wallet.”

Brain: “So noted. Carry on.”

The information registered, but it never became an action.

Now I really needed it to get the new bank anccount. The panic escalated. Fortunately, I was able to reschedule the appointment.

Then I noticed something fascinating: I immediately wanted to play Sudoku blocks on MindPal to blank out the feelings. Instead, I stopped to settle myself. Racing around on a fruitless search was only making me more frantic. My goal was to interrupt that familiar pattern.

I intentionally stopped and engaged in a breathing practice. I breathed in for four counts, held for seven, and breathed out for eight, repeating several times. This pattern is known as 478.

Once I settled, my search became more calm and systematic. Within five minutes, I found both my glasses and my driver’s license.

I felt exasperated and frustrated, but I wasn’t calling myself names. I was trying to understand what had happened.

I still don’t understand how to get myself arranged well ahead of time before leaving. Like, when exactly does preparation start when I’m busy doing other stuff? How does that work?

I wonder whether part of my reluctance to get ready comes from anticipating this familiar chaos. Does that anticipation lead me to delay, which then creates the very situation I dread?

And why doesn’t noticing something important—“my license isn’t in my wallet”—prompt me to act while there’s still time? I know I need it for driving and identification. Yet that knowledge doesn’t seem to carry enough weight in the moment.

I see a smaller version of this with things like putting lids back on jars and bottles. I’ve done the main thing, but that final step somehow stays unfinished.

I’d love to hear what has helped others with these two things:

Turning “I noticed this needs doing” into an action before it becomes urgent.
Making the final step—putting the license back, replacing the lid, returning the glasses to their place—part of the action itself.

How do you cue yourself to “close the circle” promptly?

Stopping and settling helped me interrupt the panic this time. Now I want to understand how to make the steps before the panic more dependable.

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Getting out the door—and closing the circle