Every spring, I fill my birdfeeder to the brim with seeds. We get cardinals and chickadees and titmice.
They’re messy buggers, though, and they fling (most of) the seed down from the feeder into the potted flower plants on my apartment deck.
What? Whaaaat? I can barely plan for tomorrow and now, suddenly, I have to think about five years down the road?
(If you missed the first three parts of this story, click here, then here , and then here.)
The scene: a small road off of a two-lane state highway in the woods.
Maybe I am having a legitimate medical problem instead of a panic attack. Maybe there's a problem with my heart or my blood pressure. Maybe there's a problem with my brain. Did I have a stroke? Maybe I'm having a stroke RIGHT NOW OH GOD WHAT THE HELL.
Does a struggle with workplace stress somehow disengage your ability to handle non-work stress? Just because Paul Marshallsea, at 62 years old, rose to the occasion during a single decisive moment and triumphed in the face of a very life-threatening stressor, does that mean he's capable of working?
When your limbs are shaking uncontrollably, the gas pedal is a nightmare to control. My car heaved in fits and starts, thanks to my spasmodic right foot, but I didn't make it far before I started to feel very cold and prickly.
Twenty minutes in: rocking out to Modest Mouse and eating a peanut butter cup. Thirty minutes into the drive: nausea, a racing heart, and a vivid expectation of death.