One particularly nasty problem with a panic attack is that you feel isolated. Of course, you are isolated, to an extent. It’s not like you can point to your hair on fire or your dangling limb or the gunman aiming at you and have someone say, Whoa, I get it, how scary! Which sucks because you truly, deeply, emotionally and physically feel like something that terrible is happening.
In between doses of kindness from friends (all much appreciated, friends), because I was out of town, I also met many strangers who kept me from going completely nuts. Here are some of those people, with thanks for Thanksgiving.
1. Lady next to me on the plane. I waited frantically for her to put her book down, and once she did, I cultivated our conversation like a prize orchid. We talked about Orlando, Las Vegas, Asheville, and her work as a nurse. “Well, when you work in a hospital, people dying is just part of the job,” she said cheerily. What was there then to fear? She and her husband played blackjack and craps in Vegas. I could think of nothing less appealing than adding more risk to my life. But, hey, whatever makes you happy.
2. The guy who drove my bags and me to my hotel room on the grounds of the huge resort. He told me about his recent dental surgery, having half his teeth pulled and replaced with implants. He apologized for sounding funny. He was wearing a retainer. He was worried about not being able to eat solid food at Thanksgiving, or at his 15-year-anniversary-of-employment dinner. I felt a little less sorry for myself. Just a measly single root canal can kick my ass.
3. My groupmates at the afternoon session of my conference, who encouraged me to play “the gay kid” in our skit about homophobia in the classroom. This was because I was the only straight person in the group. Pretty cute, I know. I couldn’t concentrate on my own freaking out when I was the star! I was representing all gay kids! Strange but true.
4. My cab driver on the way to dinner. We had a great talk about the cost of goat meat (he was from Pakistan), the horrors of Chicago weather, the astounding cost of plane tickets overseas, and how Americans would benefit from seeing other countries. He told me he thought change was good, and he had no desire to ever return to Pakistan. I needed that positive, forward thinking.
5. On the way to the airport, I sat next to a teacher from Detroit. Teachers all size each other up by grade level and subject and suburban/rural/urban. “Do you teach in the suburbs?” she asked me. “No, I’m in the inner city.” We were now good friends. Inner city teachers are like a gang. Just that tight, just that loyal. We swapped stories, talked about why our schools worked. Hers is going to have a ton of students added from other schools, and she was justifiably anxious about if they could maintain a high quality program.
Thanks again, you all did me good, although you probably didn’t know it.