I hate being underground or underwater. Small spaces don’t bother me so much as the idea of being confined, buried in a substance I can’t climb out of. Tunnels are no big deal, but you couldn’t convince me to climb down a manhole. Snorkeling and Scuba Diving provoke serious panic attacks (ever tried to breathe through hyperventilation while strapped to an oxygen tank?), despite repeated attempts to overcome them.

This is becoming more of a problem for me now that I live in New York City. I live in Brooklyn and work in Manhattan, so at least five days a week I need to take the subway between the islands—underground and underwater.

I’m doing fairly well with the regular trips on local trains; I stand rather than sit; take deep, calming breaths when the doors open at each station stop; and focus on awareness of my surroundings and the idea of expansiveness within the city. Express trains are more difficult—much longer periods of time in between station stops, and some delays on the tracks without warning or announcement.

I’m moderately more comfortable now than I was when I arrived on March 28, but I still have to give myself a mental pep talk before I get on the train. That’s not going to be an acceptable long-term way of living.

If I can become more comfortable now than a was just a few weeks ago, I should be able to get to a point where this anxiety won’t be such a big part of my life.