Panic Stations!

I made it to the end of the driveway, and I felt anxious. Not like, is the replacement plug for my hot tub coming today? More like, I think the glaciers are getting closer, and according to Michael J. Wilson, I can expect a saber-tooth tiger, a woolly mammoth, and a sloth to wreak havoc in my neighborhood sometime in the next few minutes, anxious.

It only takes fifteen seconds to get to the end of my driveway, and when I reached it, strong inner voices were telling me, in no uncertain terms, to go home immediately.

Since I am my father’s son, I always know better and decided to go as far as the Deer Harbor Community Hall.

Once I was there, I made the half loop that put me at the edge of leaving their driveway. Without a doubt, I was no longer heading to Eastsound to meet with my friends. I did, however, follow an ill-conceived plan to go to the Orcas Store for some grapes. (Which, you’ll be happy to know, I did actually buy the grapes. I don’t think there is any reason to point to the donuts and ice cream that shared a grocery bag with them.)

On the drive from Deer Harbor to Orcas, I was on high alert. My head didn’t turn like normal; it was turning like the crankshaft in Shirley Muldowney’s dragster. Twice, I saw squirrels try to full-on attack me, but I was able to elude both of them. Panic Stations.

I thought the Orcas Store would be safe ground, but I forgot about people, and, as fate would have it, there were some there.

I was able to avoid them until I got to the cash register. A byproduct of living here for forty years is that I know a ton of people. So, of course, I knew who was totaling me up. And of course, they wanted to have a conversation. Now I was hanging on, trying to be polite, and I took the first off-ramp I came to.

I was relieved to be back in my car, but that only lasted for a few seconds. I felt the same dread driving home.

Part of my strategy for getting back to my trailer was the fact that I would, indeed, arrive at my trailer. An impenetrable fortress made of tin foil.

Honest to God, I thought I would calm down once I got in the house. I did not. I really can’t place this series of reactions on any one thing. I’ve felt existential dread many, many times. This was on a new level.

This morning, it is only with dedicated focus that I can stop my leg from bouncing. Same thing with grinding my teeth.

Something I want to make clear. I love my life. I love my friends. I love my daughters. I very much love Orcas Island. I could go on. The last time I wrote a gratitude list, there were eighty-seven separate entries. Also, at any given moment, I’m usually happy.

When I try to fit all of that, together with this new uber-anxiety, into one brain, I fall back on what Harry Vanderspeigle says in the series Resident Alien, “This is some bullshit.”

My breaking point came at three hours and fifteen minutes. Finally, finally, finally, I have the psychic permission to call someone, so I can figure out what the hell is going on. It only took sixty years +/- to be able to do that.

When I was finished stammering out my experience, my friend said, “That sounds like a panic attack.” I’ve heard that panic attacks only last for a few minutes, and that one of the symptoms is that I will be sure I’m dying. I didn’t reach that feeling, and this certainly didn’t last for only a few minutes.

I always like to know ‘why.’ The answer for this particular night was a grain of sand. Eventually, even a single grain of sand will tip the balance. At 4:44, I thought it was a good idea to go into town and meet with my good friends. Something I’ve done hundreds, if not thousands of times. Tonight, when added to everything else that has been camping out in my head, even the thought of being with friends was too much

When we added up all that was whelming on this particular day, it was easy to see why I became overwhelmed. The barbarians were at the gate; they had broken through and were setting fire to the city.

I’ve been overwhelmed before, but this was new territory. I don’t know what to call it. Going-Out-Of-Business-Everything-Must-Go-whelmed?

I didn’t like it at all. The person I spoke to that night was familiar with what I was experiencing. When I spoke to a few other people, they were familiar with what I was talking about. Are there tons of people who are flying Debilitating Anxiety Airlines right now?

Solutions were the same. Go outside. Stop looking at Facebook. Stop listening to the news. Stop eating donuts. Sit quietly.

It is rare that I will ever entirely stop anything. On the other hand, I don’t want to have another evening like this one, so maybe that will be motivating.

I didn’t have any idea of what people went through during a panic attack, and I may have only had a semi-panic attack. My empathy grew three sizes.

Well, sometimes I can tie an essay into a tidy little bundle. Not today.

All I can say is “This is some bullshit.”