TheBanyanTree: A Panic Attack

[Indiglow]

Have you put hinges on the top of my head to crawl inside and pull stories out?
Peace & blessings,
Jana

--- On Wed, 5/8/13, Monique Colver <monique.colver at gmail.com> wrote:


From: Monique Colver <monique.colver at gmail.com>
Subject: TheBanyanTree: A Panic Attack
To: "Banyan Tree" <thebanyantree at lists.remsset.com>
Date: Wednesday, May 8, 2013, 4:14 PM


There’s still a hollow feeling in my chest, a sort of numbness and a
tingling, but the tingling is so muted that I’m not really sure it’s there.

I swear I was fine this morning. Or as fine as can be expected.

I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed, if you must know, but not any more than
usual, and I’ve been pretty damn happy lately, even with the depression
lurking in the background. It sits back there, coming out when I’m really
stressed, or grieving, or in pain. Mostly I keep it at bay, thanks to
pharmaceuticals, a happy family life, good friends, and a really
accommodating dog. (And the now gone dog, Honey, who I must mention because
it feels wrong not to.)

But I’m good. Occasionally something trips me up, because that’s how life
works, and that’s how I know I’m doing stuff. If I never did anything,
nothing would happen, good or bad. I’m just doing my thing, trying to
remember my place in the world, and that I have one.

My technology was not being cooperative today. Sometimes that happens.
That’s no big deal. But the good news was, I didn’t need to call the IRS
for a client after all! So yay! Just another day of working in the office.
No appointments, so I can get some real work done, a dog sleeping at my
feet, my husband in the next office, and the world doing what it does.

Suddenly, like a thunderclap but without the noise, there’s nothing left.
There’s just darkness, and I’m falling down a hole that doesn’t appear to
end. My heart does its own thing, it’s no longer a part of me, it beats
furiously, trying to escape its cage.

And I know with absolute certainty that nothing will ever be okay again.

I can’t talk, not at first. I get up and go into the hallway, and my
husband looks up from his desk and says, “What’s wrong?” and I can’t tell
him because not only do I not know, but also because I can’t  talk, I just
want to cry and not stop.

I do know what’s wrong, everything is wrong, the world is a mess, and I’m a
mess, and what am I even doing here?

So much drama for such a little panic attack.

A lot of people I know have had them, and they are never little. They are
never undramatic.  They are scary and big and overwhelming. They can lurk
around before emerging full blown, tiny spiders running around the rim of
our consciousness, or they can come out suddenly, with no warning. They can
happen when we’re happy, and when we’re not.

They can feel like a heart attack, or, in my case, like a major depressive
episode coming on like a freight train. The ground shakes, the rails
rattle, and there’s that bright headlight blinding me to anything but the
crumbling of my world.

And then it starts to pass, and when the freight train is about halfway
past me I can talk again, even though there’s sound and vibration still
passing me by, and then it’s gone, leaving behind the vast emptiness, the
stillness that’s only outside of me, and silence.

It takes time for my heart to calm, for my mind to settle, for my
perspective to return. It takes time. But everything will be okay, even if
I’m still not quite certain of that.

Everything will be okay.