I have this weird thing that has been happening when I fly lately.

I get anxiety attacks. I am not afraid of flying, I am not afraid of crashing or bumps or small spaces, but this dreadful fear hits me at random points of my flights, and I feel like I am going to die.

It began on a flight home from a long period in Rwanda for some mission work. I had been dehydrated, my nutrition was low and my exhaustion was high. I also have an abnormally low heart rate, so that mixed with the physical conditions along with stale air and changing air pressure, caused a physical reaction, that triggered my heart to speed up, which triggered fear which triggered the panic.

Over the next year, after having my blood and heart checked, doctors verified it was simply an anxiety attack.

Me? Anxiety attack? No comprendo. I fly all the time for work. I’m a zen chick. I run, surf and do yoga. I love angels and Enya. Anxiety attacks?

This bizarre, and entirely unacceptable new “thing” causing much chaos in my life (I now had this trigger, and it continued to happen on all flights) caused deep introspection. I felt like this was quite possibly, an externalization of something going on internally, and I started to realize, there were other things going on in my world I wasn’t stoked on.

Yeah, I love yoga and surfing, but how often was I really doing them? I have a deep faith, love volunteering and connecting with my angels – but those passions were stale and dusty, as “life” issues (work kids la la la) have replaced them. I have a nutrition degree – I was a vegan for 20 years! Yet lately, my food of choice? Processed, sugary and quick. And coffee, wine? A daily high dosage occurrence.

It was a sad realization. I have become complacent. I have lost my zest.  I have lost my joy. I can barely remember my purpose.

I don’t feel bad. I just don’t feel great.

And the terrible irony is, on paper, my life is great. My husband is a wonderful and supportive partner, I have an exciting and well paying job, I have some good solid friendships, and my kids, bless their hearts, are pretty good kids.

But I just feel….blah. A few times I’ve even felt “depressed”.

I notice I have been enjoying sitting on the couch drinking wine at night, moreso than ever.

I still am exercising, but I no longer have goals to focus on (I just completed a 100 mile ultramarathon, which kept me challenged for many months in training), yet I put nothing on my plate to replace it.

Life is just, blah.

It would be so easy for me to go to a doctor and get some Xanax or anti-depressants, to keep drinking my wine and watch the days pass.

But it’s time I woke up.

As I see my family struggle with much bigger issues (poverty, addiction, divorce), and as I look around and see what hardships there truly are out there in the world, I feel so guilty about my little pity party. There is nothing wrong with my world. I am blessed, and have been given so much. I actually used to feel guilty how much I had, and one scripture kept me focused Luke 12:48 “From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked”.

I discovered many years back, my life’s purpose was to give, with what God had given me. That kept me focused, striving for me, and being grateful for the blessings I had, which I could share with others.

Giving, serving, was my purpose. Is my purpose. Giving to my children, my husband, my friends, my parents, my world, ME.

Yet, I was barely managing any of that. Not only was I not giving, I was barely stopping to appreciate.

It’s so easy to stop and recognize what we have. Yet somehow, it is so much easier to get lost in the passing moments of life, time dutifully crawling past us, blinding us, numbing and diluting our ability to recognize true, rich appreciation.

My purpose – not being fulfilled. I was letting a lot of people down. It wasn’t honoring God. It wasn’t honoring me.

Reality is, we’re all terminal. I am going to die. The older I get the faster time goes, and the more I seem to be letting life, slip through my fingers.

I know more than anyone, how important our minds, our focus, our words, our commitments and our thoughts pave the way to our future.

And I know, more than anyone, I am doing none of the things I should be doing.

So, Monday, start of a new month, is start of a new me. It all changes.

I know what I need to do, to feel good. I know it all starts with care of my body, and my mind. First, love and honor myself, then I can truly love and honor others.

Nutrition, cutting back sugar, caffeine, alcohol. Fresh food, clean water. It starts with what I put in my body.

But right behind it is my life choices. The way I move, the way I judge. The time I take for social media vs my family. The time I spend worrying about what others think, rather than focusing on what I think. Doing my best at every single thing I encounter, big or small and shifting my worrying energy in to creative energy of crafts and cooking and reading and writing.

Yes, exercise is important. But where my focus has been on the intensity and how many calories I am burning, I will listen to what my body wants, and honor it.

Church – go. Praying, practice it. Meditate, schedule it. Volunteering – seek moments big and small to serve. Do it every day.

I know, I know, easier said than done.

But one thing I have learned in all my 43 years on this earth is, this is my life. This is my world and only I can control it. I can choose what I eat, how I move, and how I think. I choose to be better. I choose to honor my purpose.

I’ll continue to monitor and check in. I know it will be a rough start, stopping old habits and making new ones. But I also know, this is what I need to do.

So I simply, am going to choose to do it.