Minute One:
Stop whatever you’re doing.
Look around.
Hear the room.
Smell the air.
Feel your pulse in your wrists.
It doesn’t get to win.
Not now.
Not tonight.
Minute Two:
Sit up in bed.
Feel your body pressing into the mattress.
Feet planted,
legs tucked or stretched —
notice them. Ground yourself.
You are here.
You exist.
You’re alive.
Minute Three:
Water.
Drink.
Not slowly.
Not carefully.
Just gulp.
Taste it. Feel it.
Know you are alive.
You are still here.
Minute Four:
Light.
One switch.
Not all.
Push back the dark.
Watch shadows retreat.
Feel the space stretch around you.
Darkness does not claim you.
Not yet.
Minute Five:
Get your phone.
Text one person.
Not an essay.
Not a confession.
Not a question.
Just “hey”, a meme, nonsense.
Let them know: I’m alive.
Minute Six:
Big breaths.
Not small.
Not careful.
Fill, hold, release.
Again.
Force it if need be.
Remind yourself,
“I exist.”
Minute Seven:
Hands.
Clench.
Release.
Again.
Wake up.
Muscle, pulse, bone.
Feel it all.
You are stubbornly alive.
Minute Eight:
Rant.
Out Loud.
Scream if you must.
Whisper if you need.
Say the thing eating you alive.
Empty it. Spill it.
Let it exist
outside your head.
Minute Nine:
Eat something.
Whatever.
Just something.
Chew. Taste.
Focus on it for a second.
Notice the texture.
Let it remind you,
you’re here.
Minute Ten:
Stand.
Walk if you can.
Move somewhere different.
Anywhere but here.
Notice the floor beneath you.
You are not stuck.
You are moving.
Every step counts.
Minute Eleven:
Check your phone.
Look at the first text.
Reply.
Or don’t.
You tried.
It counts.
You reached out.
That’s proof.
Minute Twelve:
Breathe.
Again.
Slow.
Longer than before.
Count if you need.
Five in.
Eight out.
Repeat.
Minute Thirteen:
Look around.
Touch something real.
Anything nearby —
wall, chair, fabric.
Feel it.
Notice its weight.
Its presence.
Be present.
Minute Fourteen:
Go back.
Pick any step.
Do it again.
Rinse. Repeat.
Refuse to let the spiral win.
Exist.
Minute by minute.
Keep going.
Minute Fifteen:
Sit or lie down.
Stay awake enough to notice.
Your breath. Your pulse.
The minutes passed by.
You survived fifteen.
You can do fifteen more.
You can do a hundred more.
Say it.
Apr 9
Apr 9, 2026 at 9:18 AM UTC
Minute One:
Stop whatever you’re doing.
Look around.
Hear the room.
Smell the air.
Feel your pulse in your wrists.
It doesn’t get to win.
Not now.
Not tonight.
Minute Two:
Sit up in bed.
Feel your body pressing into the mattress.
Feet planted,
legs tucked or stretched —
notice them. Ground yourself.
You are here.
You exist.
You’re alive.
Minute Three:
Water.
Drink.
Not slowly.
Not carefully.
Just gulp.
Taste it. Feel it.
Know you are alive.
You are still here.
Minute Four:
Light.
One switch.
Not all.
Push back the dark.
Watch shadows retreat.
Feel the space stretch around you.
Darkness does not claim you.
Not yet.
Minute Five:
Get your phone.
Text one person.
Not an essay.
Not a confession.
Not a question.
Just “hey”, a meme, nonsense.
Let them know: I’m alive.
Minute Six:
Big breaths.
Not small.
Not careful.
Fill, hold, release.
Again.
Force it if need be.
Remind yourself,
“I exist.”
Minute Seven:
Hands.
Clench.
Release.
Again.
Wake up.
Muscle, pulse, bone.
Feel it all.
You are stubbornly alive.
Minute Eight:
Rant.
Out Loud.
Scream if you must.
Whisper if you need.
Say the thing eating you alive.
Empty it. Spill it.
Let it exist
outside your head.
Minute Nine:
Eat something.
Whatever.
Just something.
Chew. Taste.
Focus on it for a second.
Notice the texture.
Let it remind you,
you’re here.
Minute Ten:
Stand.
Walk if you can.
Move somewhere different.
Anywhere but here.
Notice the floor beneath you.
You are not stuck.
You are moving.
Every step counts.
Minute Eleven:
Check your phone.
Look at the first text.
Reply.
Or don’t.
You tried.
It counts.
You reached out.
That’s proof.
Minute Twelve:
Breathe.
Again.
Slow.
Longer than before.
Count if you need.
Five in.
Eight out.
Repeat.
Minute Thirteen:
Look around.
Touch something real.
Anything nearby —
wall, chair, fabric.
Feel it.
Notice its weight.
Its presence.
Be present.
Minute Fourteen:
Go back.
Pick any step.
Do it again.
Rinse. Repeat.
Refuse to let the spiral win.
Exist.
Minute by minute.
Keep going.
Minute Fifteen:
Sit or lie down.
Stay awake enough to notice.
Your breath. Your pulse.
The minutes passed by.
You survived fifteen.
You can do fifteen more.
You can do a hundred more.
Say it.
For anyone who needs it:
