Falling Baby Syndrome
Dropped from a Bipolar High-Rise
I call it falling baby syndrome. Those moments of panic.
Have you ever held a baby, knowing you had it safe and secure in your arms, but for some inexplicable reason, the baby gasps in a huge breath, extends its arms out to the sides, tightens its legs, and has a look of fear as though it’s falling?
That’s me during a panic attack.
I’m stuck in a panic attack.
My family left on Sunday. It’s only been three days and I cannot tell you how many times my mind has outstretched its arms, stiffened its appendages, and held its breath as if I was being dropped from a high-rise building with no one to catch me.
No one but me, that is.
When they first left, I bawled. And I do mean sobbed. Ugly cried. I felt abandoned, even though their leaving had absolutely nothing to do with me and everything to do with them needing to save themselves from a bad situation.
I think back to when my kids were pre-teens. My eldest son, who was always stern with me, yelled in my face, “It’s not about you. Not everything is about you. Stop making everything about you!”
That was three decades ago and I still time travel back to that moment. My middle son and his wife are getting…
