In Spring 2020, I took a Biology class as one of my last science credits that I needed to graduate. On the first Wednesday morning of March, a girl in the back of that Biology class raised her hand and said, “Um, my boyfriend is in the hall beside us and he said they’re evacuating due to tornado warnings.” We hadn’t heard anything about it yet, but a few minutes later we all received alerts sent to our phones telling us to take shelter. (Looking back, this start to March was perfect because it all went tumbling downhill from there).
Down the stairs and into a giant hallway we all went, waiting for the bad weather to pass. I’m not sure anymore exactly how long we spent in the hallway, but I know some folks chose that morning to forget deodorant and the hallway was packed with people. We waited. Waited more. Would wait for updates. Wait for the wind to stop trying to beat the doors down. And then, we all started hearing word that there was a bit of damage in the campus. My parents began to text me, their texts sounding a little more worried than before.
Throughout this whole time, I was trying to not go into a full blown panic attack. I don’t know many people who enjoy bad weather, but I’m the biggest baby when it comes to that.
One of my teachers was messaging me the whole time, asking if I was safe—and after she knew I was freaked out by storms—kept checking up on me to make sure I was okay and not crying behind the bathroom toilet or something (ew). This was really nice and all, but the best part was after we were finally allowed to leave the hallway. I walked straight to her hall and was trying to pull myself together the whole time before she came and got me, taking me on a walk around the campus. I don’t know if she was doing it purposely, letting me calm down by getting a little adrenaline out, but she helped my nerves ease to where I at least felt like I could breathe again.
Tonight, I couldn’t find my keys as I was leaving to go home from work. My Tile app said they were out of range, which immediately made me think someone accidentally grabbed them. I tried to keep calm and not freak out (really, I did). But my brain just kept thinking of the worst and that I needed to find a ride home tonight. Few people have seen me cry, but one of the people who have seen that ugly experience noticed me trying to hold myself together and just looked at me, breathed, and said, “It’s okay.”
And it was. My keys were found (in my vehicle, I’ll add. It’s been a rough few months). No one had to drive me all the way home. All was well.
The people like this in my life who calm me down when I need it most are truly miracle workers, in my opinion. Not necessarily because of the work they do in calming me, but because I never ask to be calmed. They notice and they offer their help without it making me feel like I’m depending on someone to help me.
I want to be like these people.
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