To me, panic is noticing a sensation or a reaction and zooming in on it without knowing what it is and then finding evidence that it’s a symptom of your demise. That’s about to come. Immediately. Or close to immediately. And you’re not ready to go. But you don’t want anyone to know you’re in this predicament. But you need help. But you don’t have access to your people-pleasing skills. So you don’t know who to trust. Bc who would want to help the ‘raw’ you? With no mask on? So you wind up in the ER. Where you know people get paid to help others. And you explain that you’re usually together but at the moment you’ve fallen apart. And that you might actually be dying this time. And you pray secretly to anyone who might be listening, that if you survive this moment, you’ll never again let fear rule your life. That you’ll allow your compassion and love to rise to the surface instead of doubting it’s real. And you’ll offer that compassion and love to all the parts of you that are hurting. Including your most raw self. That really never needed a mask. Just a safe space to share herself and be accepted and cared for and loved.
-JLK