The other day, I walked into a meeting with a pit in my stomach the size of a grapefruit. I hadn’t even sat down yet, and there was already a tight pressure building in my chest, like my body was trying to send a message in Morse code. Now, in the past, I would’ve ignored it—slapped a smile on, powered through, and left wondering why I felt drained, dizzy, or like I needed to cry and reorganize the pantry at midnight.