Anxiety

By Calle Hack

On my eighth birthday my mom gave me a desk plate that read “Genius At Work” which is not only just a weird gift for an eight year, but also like a lot of pressure. But this was the year my mom decided that I might be like a real smart kiddo and she was going to test this theory by having me read Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations. Ya know, the standard eight year old smart test? She only tried to sit and read through it with one Saturday afternoon and then was like, “Oh dear no, this kid is for sure a dumdum.” Have you ever read Wealth of Nations? Neither have I. No one has. I tried when I was eight. But it’s a 950 page book about the philosophy of money and the concept of free trade.

It’s like the Infinite Jest for the mediocre white men of 1776. None them read it, but they all sure as fuck pretended they did.

Anyway, I was a big time disappointment. My mom realized I wasn’t a prodigy and I realized I would never make my mother proud. So, I don’t want to brag, but this led to a very unhealthy relationship with perfectionism and anxiety.

My second grade journal entries were filled with lines like, “I’ve been exhausted and overwhelmed my entire life” and this was during the Clinton era. So can you imagine my anxiety levels now?! But I assume we all are.

If you’re not anxious right now you probably either don’t have a Twitter account or like maybe you’re a Nazi.

So, I’m going to tell you about my most favorite panic attack, my least favorite panic attack and then why we’re all fucked.

My most favorite panic attack this administration was at the Women’s March last year. I rode in a van for 14 hours with 7 other women, so we could all go for a long, long stroll together.

We woke up at 7am. I was fresh, excited, ready to take down the patriarchy. I only had one cup of coffee, no water and no food. And I didn’t pack any either, because I am not smart which is what my mom found out very early and I’m still learning decades later.

So the March was so successful the entire plotted layout of the March was filled. Imagine a maze and putting so many rats in it that there’s nowhere for the rats to move they all just kinda shift around and ask other female rats for directions. And the rats just follow other rats into corners and roundabouts and apologize on their way. We did this from 8am to 3pm.

And I should also tell you, I’m not great in crowds. I’m a short lady and I get overwhelmed easily. So, I don’t know why I thought I could handle the largest March in modern history. I was like a corgi puppy trying to hang out with a bunch of horses. Or like a rescue dog when it hears fireworks or a man’s voice. I was scared and beginning to panic.

I was being ping ponged between these horse legs and in the slowest fucking motion. My vision was getting blurry. My head pounding. I was sweaty and going between hot flashes, then cold chills. I couldn’t get any water. I was dry coughing and sucking at the roof of my mouth, trying to get any moisture. I remembered reading that if you felt overwhelmed in large crowds find the edge and then you can dip out easily. So I start shuffling baby steps to the left, because for some reason I thought I need to move left for the edge. Then, I shuffled up near this man who had a woman on top of his shoulders and he called up to her, “Hey, how’s it look out there?” and she calls down, “It’s all people. There’s no end to it. It’s people as far as the eyes can see.” And I fucking lose it. My brain starts screaming. There’s no goddamn edge. You’re gonna die! And I stumble over to a patch of grass and vision starts to go and I just collapse down and start to cry.

And like a beautiful vision, women just start circling me. Like vultures, but like if vultures were nurturing. They pulled water bottles out of their purses, granola bars out of the hands of little babes and they chewed up pieces and spit them into my mouth like the best mama birds. They laid me down, blanketed me in coats and chanted, “light as a feather, stiff as a board” and they levated me to the EMTs. Then, one lady leaned down and whispered, “Fifty-three percent of white women voted for Trump.” Then, poof! They are just disappeared. Or at least that’s how I remember it happening. It’s very fuzzy it all just happened so fast.

My least favorite panic attack is before I have to speak in front of people. It’s terrifying. People are the scariest thing in the world.

And, now, here’s where we’re fucked.

So, I’m no stranger to anxiety. Then, last month there was an article released in Science Alert that said there’s a distinct link between anxiety and Alzheimer’s. Anxiety could in fact be the manifestation of Alzheimer’s which is terrifying for people who have anxiety. And who isn’t having anxiety attacks right now? None of us feel safe. It’s like Nazis. Anxiety. Russia. Anxiety. North Korea. Anxiety. Being a woman. Anxiety. Did you know two thirds of people suffering from Alzheimer’s are women? It’s because we’re scared all the goddamn time. These panic attacks are your future self just fucking with you, letting you know there’s nothing good happening now and it’s not ever going to get better. So, in twenty to fifty years we will all just be one big massive generation of dementia-riddled seniors. We’re all going to be like those rats in a maze, bumping into each other and asking for directions and apologizing for not knowing anything. But I’ve figured out a plan for all of us to get through these next couple years.

Meditate.

Take a bath.

Or, better yet, go to the beach.

Enjoy the fresh air.

Collect beautiful sea glass.

Rub it between your fingers, feel the smooth texture, enjoy these small moments.

Now, close your eyes.

Take a deep breath in.

Now, let it out.

Then, find that sharp edge of the glass.

Slit your wrists and walk into the ocean. Let’s just all kill ourselves.

Or, at least, live so long that we all forget I even suggested this.

OMG, please don’t really kill yourselves. Or wait long enough where I don’t think it’s because of me. Could you imagine? All the power would go straight to my head. Either way, we’re here, we’re alive and one day very soon we’ll forget this whole night ever happened!