Fun For Everyone

The house we've been circling around for 2 months went down in price by $15,000 and as a result it became an offer we couldn't refuse. So we made the offer. After that I had a panic attack that lasted approximately 15 hours.

Really, it went beyond panic attack to something approaching a psychotic break.

I am much better now, though I will admit to an undercurrent of anxiety which my exhausted body can no longer channel. I am simply too tired to hyperventhilate and weep uncontrollably anymore. Not to mention too tired to pace for hours without stopping.

I wish I knew where all this crazy comes from. I have had panic attacks off and on throughout my adult life, though the first one that I could identify as a full-blown panic attack didn't hit me until I was 26, when I got laid off from my job, was on the rocks with my long-term boyfriend and informed by my landlady that she was selling my apartment all in the same month. That made for some panic.

I had panic attacks after my 2nd and 3rd children were born, and I had a lovely one right after we'd spent 3 days painting our living room. We sat in the newly reconstructed room watching tv and out of the corner of my eye I kept seeing the tan paint, which in the incandescent light looked green. Really green. The more it intruded on my consciousness, the more internally frantic I became until I suddenly burst out crying, clutching my chest because I couldn't breathe properly.

Small wonder my husband is totally flummoxed at times like this.

He is, however, bery bery good to me, in spite of his complete inability to help me at all. He stayed up with me Friday night until I fell asleep at 2 a.m. and wisely told me to call my mother when the panic overwhelmed me again the following day. He was eyeing me warily throughout the offer process, I think because he was afraid I might do something that would seem truly crazy in front of the realtor. I did have to pace a lot, and at one point I picked up Grant and carried him around for a bit, purely because I needed his 48 pounds to tether me to something solid.

I felt nauseous for the duration of the attack, which made it impossible to eat. I slept a grand total of 2 1/2 hours and was so manic I couldn't stop pacing. Worst of all, I could not shut off my brain, which ran down all sorts of paranoid paths without check. I can confidently say that I have a very good idea of what it feels like to be a meth addict.

What pulled me back from the abyss? Several things were helpful. My mother is expert at talking me down and has a very calming aura (and although I hate that word -- aura -- it's pretty acurate; she does radiate a certain peacefulness that's very soothing). My children were exquisitely sweet. Grant, when I told him I was sad about leaving my garden said, "we could cut your flowers and move them with love to the new house!" My beautiful Abby Kate walked in on me sobbing, put her little arms around me, brought me tissues and then made me a card to help me feel better. Maggie chipped in by only pooping on her dad's watch. Several people were praying for me -- my sister, my mother in law, my mom, some really great friends of my parents who happened to be visiting during all of this (and who got my case history from Abby Kate "Mommy doesn't like change very much."). I think other people praying for you wraps you in a protective bubble, very nice when you are too keyed up to pray for yourself.

So here we are. We made the offer, we're waiting to see if they accept. I am off my ledge for the time being and am trying to 'be still and know that He is God' (thanks, Steven Curtis Chapman). Now we'll see what we will see.