I can’t do this anymore. I can’t allow my anxiety to wreak havoc on my body or my life. On vacation, I had several panic attacks; my arms, legs, and chest burning from the inside yet cool to the touch. Each time it happened, my cousin had to remind me to take deep breaths or he’d grab a cold water bottle and place it on the inside of my wrist, which calmed me a little. 

The panic attacks came during high-stress moments:

• hours before the flight, I nearly didn’t board
• when my traveller’s diarrhea kicked in the day before we left to come home (that’s what I get for writing about constipation)
• sitting on the runway, next in line to take off, the Captain comes on the speaker and informs us that they heard a crash and we need to go back to the gate 
• 8 hours later, back on the same runway, in a different (emergency) airplane, hoping that nothing would stop us this time 

I had a few other panic attacks, although they weren’t as intense. Mild heart palpitations and moderate burning. They happened whenever I would think about work – what was I missing? What will I be coming back to? Is it going to be busy? Did I lose my job while I was away? You know, normal stuff (for me). Those thoughts lead to questioning my life as a whole (see, On Constipation – in all its forms). 

As I sat back on the lounge chair waiting for the rest of the family to join me, I asked myself When was the last time you were happy and fulfilled by your work? By your job? With my writing, just getting the words on the page makes me feel satisfied and fulfilled. If it didn’t make me happy, there’s no way I could live through the rejections. 

As far as a job, I worked part-time in my early twenties as a tutor for Oxford Learning. Being a tutor was challenging and rewarding in a way I didn’t know work could be. I got along with all my students and beamed with pride when they succeeded. I wasnt the best tutor on staff but I took the job seriously and enjoyed every shift I had. 

Back on the lounge chair, my thoughts turned to Should I have been a teacher? Is it too late to make a change? Should I volunteer? Thankfully, before those thoughts could spiral, my cousin’s daughter pulled me out of my head and into the pool, “Where Tia? Swimming? Tia, swimming!” 

It’s been over a week and thankfully my TD is calming down, I haven’t had a panic attack since we got home, and I’m feeling more like myself than I have in days. However, those thoughts are still ruminating in the background and there’s no pool to jump into when they become too much. 

xo Vanessa

*Previously posted on Substack OCT 14, 2024*