I have tried to make friends with panic, but she is so large and pushy that I have a hard time giving her space in my life. What I have learned to do over the years is to allow for her. She is going to come when she feels like it. I don't have a say in the matter. I bend to her, because I have no other choice. She owns me. She dwarfs me. She runs through my mind and body like a jet on steroids.
Panic is a like a mean teacher. She punishes me and provides absolutely no direction. She is a puzzling witch with a big wart on her chin. She is darkness and all have is a wet match.
She is a beast.
My body is wired to panic. I truly believe this. I imagine panic to be sort of an emotional seizure. My mind and body are saturated with fear and my only tool is surrender. I drip vulnerability. She humbles me.
When I was young, panic ran my life. I gave her all of my power. Now, we live in begrudging harmony, and she rarely visits anymore.
For all of her apparent ugliness, she has taught me much.
Surrender. Humility. Vulnerability.
Each day, as I approach my classroom, I think of her. I remind myself that my students face their own beasts. That they too have and will have enormous inner struggles that will dwarf them and leave them limp.
