Don’t Forget to breathe

My “9:29 Moment” (Read this story and share your own…)

At 9:29 this morning, I was ready.

Tech check — done. Slides — beautiful. Client lead — standing by to hand me the virtual mic in front of a room full of executives kicking off an organization-wide development program. I had done everything right.

Then the network went out.

Not a blip. Not a "refresh and try again." Out. Like, hours out. And there I was, holding a perfectly prepared workshop with nowhere to put it.

The clients were frustrated. Some were furious. Getting off to a bad start when you're trying to launch something meaningful carries its own particular sting — and I felt every bit of it, even through my screen of calm.

I sent a short video apology. I rescheduled. And I breathed.

Later that afternoon, attempting a tech check for a podcast I'd been invited to join, the host gently suggested I'd want a stronger connection than my limited wifi for the actual recording. Of course.

I never lost it somatically. But I felt it in my spirit.

Mom — listened as I shared my painful story and she reminded me of something my DaD used to say. (DaD is not a typo but his preferred way of spelling his favorite name) He would say: Don't forget to breathe.She added her own layer: exhale longer. Get rid of what isn't needed.

He was right. She was right. The longer exhale signals your nervous system that the emergency is over. Your body starts to believe it before your mind does.

My DaD’s words memorialized on this bike rack in San Luis Obispo, CA where much of my family lives.

”Don’t forget to breathe”

Visiting the DaD bike rack with my thoughtful and loving daughter — a great support to me, and a constant reminder that I can handle whatever life throws my way.

The special bike rack was made by Peak Racks in SLO which is owned by Rod Hoadley and his son, Casey who is also good friends with my nephew Isaac.‍ ‍

You can be completely prepared, professionally grounded, genuinely ready — and the floor just isn't there. That's not a failure of preparation.

What I keep returning to is the space between the moment it happens and the next move. My pattern is to go into fix-it overdrive — frantic, anxious, convinced that if I just push hard enough I can control my way out of an uncontrollable situation. Pure action energy: take charge, make it right, don't stop moving. Today I just... exhaled. And chose the next move from the most grounded place I could find in that moment.

I'm still processing this. And I think that's right. You don't have to be over it to be okay.

Tell me your 9:29 story — the moment everything was set and something beyond your control dismantled it anyway. What happened in your body? What did you do next?

We get better at riding these waves together. Drop it in the comments.

Don't forget to breathe.

— Tres