Yesterday I had the longest, slowest, drawn-out anxiety attack. It would have been funny, if it wasn't awful.
I have no idea why. I tweeted about it for a while, as you do. I sat in a cafe with Dave, couldn't take my sunnies off. "What is wrong with me? It's like, I'm failing at life."
He told me I wasn't failing at life. Then he suggested sexy love time to make me feel better.
All day I had to gulp at the air, big breaths to save me. I realised I needed to do a meeting, asap. I still haven't done one, but I will try to get to one soon.
I will always need to do meetings - for the rest of my life. I hope I make it to the rest of my life. I don't want to miss the ending.
I panicked buying ingredients, panicked in traffic, at school. Signing for a parcel, making a phonecall, hanging out the washing .... panic panic panic.
I drove up to the quirky little shop I disovered, to pick up a clock we are giving to my Auntie Mooch for her 50th birthday this weekend. My entire extended family will be there, the first time my aunts and cousins will meet Rocco. We all have holiday houses, down at Boomerang Beach. (Can't get more Aussie than that!) There's a talent quest on tonight, and a 50's fancy dress tomorrow night.
Walking in to the clockmaker, his teeniest shop in the land. Floor and walls were barren .... just this huge grandfather clock sitting in the corner. Like a performance artist, this eccentric guy was busy taking orders, handing people their fixed clocks. Moving slowly but purposefully.
For the first time all day I felt calm. I stopped panicking. I imagined the grandfather clock opening up to a secret world. It felt like I had stepped out of the Matrix of life, and stood there with people who wanted things fixed. Instead of buying cheap crap that can be thrown away, we all stood in line for a common purpose. The guy in front of me was admiring his newly ticking watch. The one behind me stood patiently, holding a small clock.
My clock came out, fixed! It had taken a lot of searching and fixing to get it just right. The man had replaced the hands and the battery mechanism. It's for my Auntie Mooch ... I hope she likes it.
It was made in 1959. I stared at, ticking around like magic. I wondered what important times it had told in the past .... somebodys birth. Somebody's death. Maybe someone looked at this clock up on a wall, realising their lives had changed forever. I looked at it, fifty years later. My panic was all gone. I fixed the clock. And it fixed me right back.
In conclusion, if you're having a panic attack, just go into a teeny shop simply called "WATCH". And imagine yourself in the Matrix, running into the grandfather clock on the wall, and feel your realities slipping away as you realise there's nothing to be frightened of.
(My middle name really is Margaret. I hate it.)