I had my first panic attack in my mid-thirties. Before that experience, the concept sounded stupid to me. I watched a news show about the problem and thought, Just get over it. Do whatever it is, and move on. Funny how my judgements like that come back to bite me.
Driving along on the interstate with my second baby in tow, my palms began to sweat, and my chest locked up. I couldn’t breathe, and my vision began to blur. I had no clue or warning. My first panic attack.
We think a bad car wreck I’d been in while pregnant with my first child was the major contributing factor. My anxiety in vehicles had increased exponentially since that accident.
Anyway, zoom out a decade or so. Problem still here. Along the way, though, I met others with various anxiety or depressive disorders—disorders I had never given much thought to before, and probably never would have, if this hadn’t happened to me. These disorders are miserable. No one wants to go through the symptoms, much less the stigma or the embarrassment.
The whole experience became one of two motivating incentives for me to write a book. (More about the other motivation another time.) Somehow in my quirky brain, the book became a sort of romantic comedy set in Oxford, Mississippi. Go figure.
If you'd like to read the book, I've discounted it to really low price for a Kindle pre-order. It's 99 cents until the official release date of April 15, 2016. It will be available in a variety of formats after that date at regular price. If you enjoy the story, it would really help me if you leave a review on Amazon.
Blessings and thank you,
Pre-order the Kindle version here.
I was a painfully shy child. If you’re my friend, you might find this hard to believe, because I have no problem talking … once I know you. Still, every now and then, the social anxiety takes control of my brain, tongue, and body. Like making small talk—that’s hard for me.
My husband and I spent our honeymoon in the small Southern town of Natchez, Mississippi. We wanted a low key time to hang out and relax. Our bed and breakfast, The Briars, was an antebellum home situated on a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River.
During the Civil War, the fires and destruction that ruined most other Mississippi towns skipped Natchez, therefore it retains beautiful examples of antebellum architecture. Not only that, you can revel in the view of the river, ride a horse-drawn carriage, and discover the abundant antique shops and good eats. If you’re lucky, you can get a ticket in November to the elaborate Angels on the Bluff Cemetery Tour, where actors play the part of the deceased and give a live history lesson.
All that said, we enjoyed Natchez enough to return for a few anniversaries over the past twenty-something years. (We didn’t get far from our kids very often.) On one of these occasions, I made reservations to eat at a mansion. Excited, we arrived to find other couples waiting in a side room, a sort-of den, eating hors d’oeuvres. That was fine.
But then—a door opened, giving us a peek into the dining room—one long table where all the guests would sit. Together.
Immediately my anticipation of the romantic dinner tanked and my anxiety spiked. I'd have to talk to strangers on my anniversary. I nudged my husband and whispered, “Let’s sneak out and go somewhere else.”
He’s probably one of the most introverted engineers you could meet. He said no. We had a reservation, and he was eating there.
It became one of those stories we laugh about, or rather he makes fun of me about. Blundering through with my nervous chatter, I survived.
We dined on delicious gourmet food with lovely people I don’t remember.
Under the Southern Sun
Janet W. Ferguson