You cannot focus on everything. Stop trying. That is why you are losing.
When the chaos comes — the noise outside, the pain in the body, the mind spinning faster than you can steer it — the instinct is to grip harder on all of it at once. To control the whole field. And the whole field is exactly what you cannot hold, so you hold nothing, and the panic wins.
The answer is not more force. It is less ground.
Narrow. Violently. Pick one thing so small it has no right to matter — a single leaf on a tree, one petal, one grain of sand — and put everything you have left onto that one point. Not to relax. To grab it like a handhold on a cliff, because that is what it is. The one small thing you can actually hold is how you stop the fall.
Get your footing there. Then take the next thing. Then the one after. You do not conquer the chaos all at once — you take it one held point at a time, and control spreads back out from the grain of sand in your fist.
You will lose it. The field will flood back in and the grain will slip.
Find another one. Start again.
