Relax to Survive.

This morning, I boarded the train, took my seat by the window and pulled out my notebook, ready to get some script-writing done before work.  A man walked by me wearing a hilarious jean jacket circa 1984 that attracted my eyeballs.  I stared as he passed and saw that all down the backside of his jean dream was embroidery that read, "Relax to Survive."   I thought about it. 

It struck a chord.

Reason being: I have anxiety. I'm not someone who you would think has such a thing (because I'm pretty even-keeled and laid back most days), but I do.  It hit me like a brick to the face in 2005 as I walked down the grassy aisle of my college graduation field, changing me in an instant.  I was about to take my place among my fellow hungover about-to-be-graduates when I suddenly became dizzy.  Within minutes of finding my seat, the president of my college took to the podium and something inside me burst.  I had to get out of there.  So, I ran. Off the field, through the crowds, hyperventilating, searching high and low for a bathroom, and basically dying. Or so I thought.  

I used the bathroom, ran back out onto the field and sat. Things turned black.  I became dizzy again. Nauseous again.  Heart pounding again.  I was about to die again.  Once more, I ran off of the field like a mad-woman cloaked in a black cape to search for the bathroom again.  Afterwards, I ran to the ambulance that had been parked on the sidelines in case anybody happened to be dying. Like me.  The paramedics checked me out and told me that I had heat exhaustion.  I disagreed, telling them, "No, It's not the heat, it's everything. Everything is wrong."  


As my graduation continued without me, I remained on the sidelines, head between my knees, with someone else's grandmother applying a wet cloth to the back of my neck.  Then, my number was up. It was my turn to cross the stage into graduation land.  Other-persons-grandma told me that I didn't have to go, but I did.  Shaking like a leaf, I stood up, I crossed the stage, took my diploma and shook the president's hand.  Every step felt like an eternity and every thread of my being begged me to stop because I was obviously having a heart attack. 

My hand escaped the president's and as I turned to the graduation day photographer waiting for me, it was gone.  The shakes, the nausea, the heart pounding, the dizziness.  All of it was gone.  I was no longer dying. Just like that.

That was my first full blown panic attack even if I didn't know it at the time.  Since then, I've had some years where my anxiety acted as a hidden ninja, pouncing only every so often...and other years were plagued with constant anxiety mind games brought on by myself.  Nowadays, it's mostly gone.  I have ways of dealing and overcoming, but that doesn't mean I don't think about it. Often.

Which is why today, when I read that man's coat, I couldn't help but think how correct the words are.  We have to relax or we're not going to make it.  To survive...and really, really live, we need to relax.  A little more each day.

Thanks for the insight, jean jacket man.

xoxo

L