The Gift from Reality

Sometimes life requires growing a set of balls. There, I said it. Not very ladylike, but truthful nonetheless. As I make this bold proclamation, in my mind’s eye I can see my mother standing before me with a pained expression on her face, and uttering the words, “Oh Heidi!,” clearly emphasizing the first consonant in my name.

But between you and me, she would be the first to agree with this statement. For she had to be as strong as a winter’s wind, raising four children as a divorcee in the late 1960’s.

In many ways, I was the emotional barometer for what my mother would not, could not, verbally express. Feelings were a rare commodity in our household. Privacy and pride forbade my mother talking about them. Yet, somehow, and at all times, I intuitively knew what she was feeling.

Never once during a lifetime of conversations with my mother, did I hear her mention she was afraid. Her patent response for dealing with all manner of problems was, “God gave me broad shoulders.” She was a strong and courageous woman. While I, on the other hand, suffered from severe anxiety from my adulthood on. So much so, that it led to crippling panic attacks. However, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, for I did what any dutiful daughter would do—I chose not to talk about it, in the hope that my anxiety would go unnoticed.

During one particularly long episode, I was unable to drive my car. Fear gripped at me with the singular thought of driving on the freeway. Each time I approached the intersection leading to the on ramp, my heart would begin to race like a thoroughbred locked in the starting gate. The surrounding environment would narrow in scope, and I would hyperventilate.

I remember so clearly wanting to shout for help, but I couldn’t. I was ashamed of myself for giving into my fears. And, on a very deep personal level, I felt that I did not deserve the help that was needed. Finally, in absolute desperation I sought help. Fortunately, the therapist was kind and receptive to my needs. Interestingly, as I write these words, I notice the word panic is composed of the same letters as pain, only with an added “c.” I was in a great deal of emotional pain.

My therapist and I talked about my inability to drive a car. I felt relief knowing that someone else knew my secret, and cared. I now had an ally. I was given tips on how to manage a panic attack, as well as implementing a few of my own tried and true remedies. Here are some ideas:

Magnesium Glycinate—Helps to reduce nervousness.
Breathe—Slowly and deeply. This simple reminder decreases the feeling of panic.
Fear exposure—Increase your driving distance a little at a time.
Music—Listen to an empowering CD or playlist. I chose Taylor Swift’s, “Shake It Off”. Thank you, Taylor!
Pull over—To the side of the road, if necessary, and only when safe to do so.
Bring a cellphone—Call someone you trust for support.

Check, check, check, and check to all of the above. Yes, this strategy helped me to leave my home, but it did not help when approaching that ferocious freeway. A freeway whereupon the entry had barrier walls making it impossible to pull over if needed. THERE HAD TO BE ANOTHER SOLUTION.

Then, one day while I was watching a reality television show, I heard the main character, a female celebrity, say to her personal assistant (who was fearful of going beyond their comfort zone), “You have to grow a set of balls.” I looked at the TV in astonishment, craning my neck forward to listen more intently. That’s a bold statement, I thought to myself. And it just so happened to be the answer I was searching for!

Armed with my new level of courage and testosterone, I bravely drove towards the freeway—unwilling to give into my fear this time. I breathed deeply, placed my foot on the accelerator, and drove down the on ramp. Off I went onto the freeway, Taylor Swift blazing away. I was strong! I could do it! And I did! I was driving on the freeway once again. I remember calling my husband, once I reached my destination, feeling so elated and liberated. He, of course, was overjoyed.

From that day forward I was free. Since then, I have had to face numerous driving scenarios. Driving by myself on unfamiliar roads in a foreign state. Driving at times without cellular connection. And I have since added to my earthly mix a most important ingredient when facing one’s fears: employing our celestial helpers. Hiring the Heavens is a wonderful book by Jean Slatter. Her message was timely and proved to be most helpful.

Lastly, I would be remiss if I did not mention the greatest anti-anxiety elixir, a daily practice of the ancient Chinese exercise known as Qigong. Truly remarkable for calming both mind and body and equally enjoyed by men and women.

Since I am a believer in gender equality, perhaps my opening statement if said with a slightly different twist, could be helpful for men. Sometimes life may require growing a pair of breasts to nourish and nurture life.