Driving on I95 is one thing, driving 95 mph on I95 in a drizzling rain on the way to the hospital is quite another.  All the way into the City she repeated her mantra of the day . . .  “I am going to be fine.  It’s nothing.  She’s just being cautious. Better to be safe than to have to sue for malpractice later.”  Despite her moderate belief in those words, she gripped the steering wheel tighter as she went.  Thinking all the while “I can’t believe this is happening now.  Just when I seem to hit my stride and am really happy.  It just isn’t fair.”  But of course, we all know that fairness is a relative term. What seems unfair to one person can be completely legit and even lucky for another.  It is actually quite fair for me to be dealing with a health issue while I have a pretty substantial health care plan.  If it were happening to any one of the many people I know who do not have any health insurance, they would surely be screwed.  So lucky me.

This line of thinking proved to be the perfect distraction since suddenly she found herself entering the waiting room at the Mass Eye and Ear ER.  The overwhelming volume of unease in the room made her think again, “Jesus.  What the Hell am I doing here?  How could this be happening?”  And it was at that very moment that she felt lightheaded, dizzy and started to panic.

She knew enough by then to understand that what was happening was just a panic attack and eventually it would pass.  It might not be a pleasant experience but it would in fact end.   She was also pretty sure that the immediate health diagnosis that brought her to the ER in the first place was the evil circumstance triggering this freakout.

All of this went through her overburdened mind in a split second.  It all made some bit of sense – in a very ass-backwards kind of way.  Even so, this knowledge didn’t really alleviate her panic.  It did, however, cause her to stop in her tracks and try to figure out who of those sitting at her kitchen table was taking center stage.

Every now and again, I have to back up a bit and remind myself that there really are 6 (now maybe 7) people sitting at my kitchen table.  This usually happens when life has thrown something new in my way or someone left the cover off of the tar pit and I stepped right in it.  Suddenly I will find myself feeling unsettled, getting anxious, experiencing generalized “something just ain’t right”.  Typically, there is a circumstance that provoked this like the one I just rattled on about.  But sometimes it sneaks up on me without warning or obvious reason.  It is in these moments that I have to stop and remember that someone at the table has been – for lack of a prettier word – activated.  It is not, in fact, that I am about to have a stroke.

Before I really understood who all these females hanging around my table are and why they exist, I could really work myself up into a frenzy.  Usually, it went something like this “Oh my God.  What is that sense of dizziness?  Wait.  Do I have a headache too?  And I think my teeth hurt.  Oh shit, I’d better Google this because surely it is something deadly.”  Or something along those lines.  There is most definitely a theme running through my life that is usually the culprit here.  Most of the time this panic arises from a health issue.  This sort of obstacle has always done me in but it wasn’t until recently that I understood why.  Normally, I would not consider the root of this panic.  I would just feel the panic and let it run wild.  Now, however, when something happens and I sense that my circumstances have triggered some long dormant emotion, I picture my kitchen table and stop to notice if anything is different.  This helps me put whatever is happening in perspective.  People who know me are thinking right now, “Uh huh.  In perspective.  Right.”  The truth is it really does balance me – at least a bit.  Knowledge is power after all.  Isn’t it?

In this instance, instead of reeling from it, I saw my kitchen table and noticed that Karen1 (the little girl) was not happy or laughing as usual.  She was cowering and frightened being held tightly by Karen2.  The image of the little girl and the lawyer suddenly presented a very clear explanation of what was happening and actually allowed me to put it all in its place.

Karen1 is representative of the little girl who suffered an illness at five.  She was fine in the end but the experience most certainly left a mark.  Recognizing that my current anxiety stems from a health issue – exactly what Karen1 wants never to experience again and fears most – makes logical sense and I become much more capable of dealing with my immediate circumstance.  As a side note, it never ceases to amaze me that these kitchen table images just spring up on their own.  I might have been purposely scanning the table but what I saw was not intentional.  The mind and its visceral memory are incredibly powerful.

All of this “self-awareness” doesn’t really change anything of course.  I am still somewhat of a hot mess in these times.  And it certainly doesn’t make decisions easier or completely extinguish my fears or anger or whatever.  I have to admit that sometimes I just say “fuck it” and try to breathe through it, or more likely hold my breath until it passes.  Which by the way is NOT GOOD for dizziness. . . .

But other times what this perspective does do – almost as an instinctive impulse – is this.  Picturing my kitchen table gives me a sense of balance – a sense of grounding.  It allows me to see the different women who sit at my table and understand that they each have a contribution that, however small, has made me who I am.   That understanding helps neutralize my reactions and minimize my fears.  Then I can accept the emotion that might, in the moment, seem unmanageable and see it for what it is — an emotion that has been triggered by something mimicking the experience of one of the women at the kitchen table.   It’s not just a crazy reaction or frightening brain tumor causing my frenzy.

As I write this it sounds like I have PTSD in almost every aspect of my life and that I am one Hell of a hypochondriac.  Again my tribe is nodding furiously and I fear that their heads might just roll away.

Trust me it is hardly that significant . . . .    After all, some of this is just a response to simple life events and not a result of some dramatic experience.   My point is that being able to see this and to understand my kitchen table, has allowed me to accept the way I fit into and operate in the world.   And while at times I can be a challenge to myself and anyone who happens to pass through my world, there is something grounding about experiencing life through this lens.

I highly recommend checking out your own kitchen table.  You might be surprised to see who is there.  Plus, what’s life without a bit of drama . . . .