what is real?

Today I have one foot planted firmly in panic and the other foot dangling above the icy cold waters of reality.

It began with an overnight of broken sleep. Three people, then four, all crowded into a king sized bed with everyone fighting for space and covers. A few times I woke to find my arms stolen for pillows and little legs tangled over and under my own. Each time interrupting a dream filled with snippets of my unconscious thoughts trying to make sense of my crazy reality.

"Life comes at you pretty fast," so says Ferris Beuller. Sometimes too fast for the sensible parts of your brain to keep up. Each person handles this in a different manner. Mine manifests into panic attacks.

The physical symptoms are bad enough: rush of cold tingles through your veins, rapid breathing, racing heart rate, itchy scalp. The emotional symptoms are terrifying: Am I safe? What is real? Who is watching me? Am I loosing it?

I really wanted a Zanax. I could have used a stiff drink. I contemplated my ability to procure illegal drugs. A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G that would help me escape myself .......... knock me out and wake me when it's over.

Instead I am choosing internal dialogue with myself. Dangerous, I know. My father always tells me, "The mind is a scary and dangerous place. Never go there alone." But if I don't try, I am afraid I am going to surrender to the F.E.A.R. = False Evidence Appearing Real.

One minute I feel my foothold in panic start to loosen, and the next it is sucking me back in. The thing about being a wife and mother, however, is the rest of your family keeps moving along. I want to stay with them today. I want to hold the joy of the moment in my hands, not watch it flutter away right in front of my eyes.

Real is right here. Real is feeling the wave and riding it out. Real is time passing. Real are my children's needs. Real is looking into my husband's eyes and speaking volumes without opening my mouth. Real is what I want, so I will keep plugging away today until both feet get wet.