It's been a while since I've had one of my panic attacks about death. I used to get them more often, but in the recent years, I seemed to have grown out of them.
I can vividly remember my two most difficult attacks. One was when I was in college. My one of my lovely roommates stayed up with me hours, watching me pace around our living room, muttering and blubbering about the futility of it all. The second one happened when I was living in Aspen and I made the mistake of watching the movie Alive. Again, I stayed up most of the night, pacing around our condo while my friend sat there making sure I didn't do anything stupid.
Since I've been with Hubster and had the kids, I haven't had these attacks very often. Perhaps it's because I'm too busy to dwell on what I can't control or it's that I see, upclose, the beauty in life everyday.
That being said, I am worried today. I'm anxious for my loved-one's loved one who faces a long battle today against an enemy who's strength is hidden.
I'm not sure how make anything better in this situation and I could sense these feelings of helplessness and fear creeping into my subconsciousness as I worried about it last night. Plus, watching two documentaries about death and illness last night didn't help. Nor did reading Mark Twain's 'The Mysterious Stranger' this past week.
Huster realized that I wasn't getting settled to sleep and asked what was going on. I quickly told him I was fighting off a panic attack about death and helplessness.
He paused for a second and then replied,
"But you're not dead."
And neither is my loved-one's loved one.
I think I'll try and remember the quote from The Shawshank Redemption, "get busy living, or get busy dying." I've got to stop worrying about what I can't control.
I need to not let the unknown scare me.
I need to stop watching late night tv.
I need to send all my love and thoughts to my loved-one and her loved one.