Panic

I think I am having a panic attack.

Right.

Now.

I can feel my heart rate up, I am nauseous and short of breath. I feel that impending sense of doom. I am dizzy. I want to throw up. The waves keep coming.

My husband and I are fighting. I suppose it is part of the whole thing, the whole marriage thing, the whole life thing. We fight, we talk, we grab at one another, we ask for our wages, our peace, and then work out the details, see what it is that we can live with.

And then we do it again.

My mother-in-law says that it starts to happen faster, the older you get. I could be 60. It actually sounds kinda cool. Simpler life, fewer people to be responsible for, no puppies, smaller house, more wisdom, more experience. Yeah, I could definitely wreck some shit if I was 60.

I am still in the worker phase though, the long days in the sun, tearing at the roots, pulling the weeds, preparing the soil, praying for rain. The young children, the money that never seems to stretch to the seams, the hard work at jobs that we need to support us, the mess, the clutter, the unendingness of it all.

It is not quite my time for faster fights.

I wonder if she still has panic attacks.

I hope I get to find out.