I might regret this later

I debated a long time today about whether or not I wanted to write this post. I'm all for a bit of comic mishap especially when it happens to me, but this is actually quite embarrassing.  I feel, though, that it is too rich not to put down in words.

Saturday, a friend of a friend was visiting from CA and so 3 of us decided to take her out to one of the most beautiful seaside towns in Massachusetts: Rockport. After a perusal of some of the shops we made our way to a giant jetty that juts into the water. Not content to just stand at the edge my 3 companions began to hop scotch across the boulders making their way out to the distant edge, and the ocean. I stepped out onto one rock and this irrational, intense sense of fear slammed into me. I couldn't go one step further onto that craggy jetty with the ocean water lapping below.

About halfway out my friends realized I was not leaping behind them with gazelle-like weightlessness and motioned me to join them. I casually waved for them to keep going with out me, I'd just. . .wait here. Yea, right.

pre panick attack with Sarah.
Not sure why we went with an engagement photo pose. . . 

My friend Sarah scuttled back over the rocks grabbed my hand and insisted I come with them. Amidst protests and insistance that I was fine and could just photograph them from afar or something, I followed Sarah out onto the rocks. The next few minutes involved a slightly panicked me being coaxed over the rocks by my pals. We finally made it to the very tip and it actually was very beautiful. A light, warm breeze fluffled our hair as we watched boats motor in and out of the harbor and listened to the sound of the incoming tide slap against the lower rocks. For some reason, butterflies were everywhere, dancing between the jutting slabs.

When we decided to head back, a swell of anxiety started to mushroom its way up into my chest shattering the serenity of the moments before. Even now, I can't really explain what caused this but, suddenly, about a quarter of the way back across the jetty I started to have a full fledged panic attack. In case you've never had one before, (I imagine there a bit different for everyone) I'll try to explain it. Very suddenly my whole brain goes blank of every thought and it feels like I'm standing in a room with all the windows open and wind whipping through in every direction.  My body reflexively starts to breathe deeply in long tense gasps. There is never enough air. All the sounds around me start slipping by in a nonsensical meter and volume. My whole body starts to shake and if any thought enters my mind is it this:  I. can't. breathe.

And so it was. On a jetty. In the ocean. With three very calm friends trying to convince me I was fine and we would be across in no time. Thankfully, my friend Sarah uttered the magic words that can calm me from just about any panic attack. You're fine. Just breathe. Hold my hand.

The girls were able to keep me going across the rocks, and I started to feel really silly that I was so freaked out. My mortification was made complete, though, when we came upon a group of 10 or 11 year old boys, totally calm, crouched fearlessly in and around the rocks. One of them had crawled under a triangle of boulders and was shouting "dirty words" from underneath us. That particular moment stands out in crystalline clarity. There I was, full grown, in a moment of spastic panic (in a situation that should not be that scary) being  upstaged by a group of inappropiate boy children and their gutter-minds. It was kind of poetic, really. In a sort of horrifying way. . .

Needless to say we made it back fine. As we reached the end of the jetty and hopped up onto solid land, I fully understood why, after a traumatic experience in a movie, people are always collapsing and kissing the ground in gratitude for whatever beneficent creature invented it's sweet, solid, expansive mass. Given that I'd already embarrassed myself enough for one day, though, I stayed standing. But mentally, my lips were on that asphalt.

And I really needed a drink. . .