The Unintended Hiatus

I love these little chairs - right down to the blue and blue-green colors!

This is not the blog entry I expected to be writing after July 1^st...after my first adventure at the flea market. I expected to be writing about what sold and what didn’t, what people loved and what they didn’t, what I learned and what could be improved on the next time.

Instead I’m writing about an anxiety attack that completely derailed my plans...an unexpected and wicked agony that descended on me in 10 minutes, changing everything in the immediate term and yielding long term effects that I still don’t have my arms around.

Almost everyone I know has had anxiety at times in their lives...dry mouth, a racing heart, maybe butterflies, a little nausea or even sweaty palms. An anxiety (or panic) attack is that sort of anxiety on steroids.

Here’s the irony. I was prepared for the show...I was so close. My truck was loaded and I’d driven it 300 miles through some pretty heavy traffic to my friend’s Saturday afternoon. I had plenty of merchandise, a canopy, business cards and tools. I had an outfit to wear and a hat with my logo on it. I was set.

Only, apparently, I wasn’t. I got up at 3:30 on Sunday morning, washed my face and brushed my teeth. Went out, started my truck and started driving. And then, something happened. It started with a little tingling in my stomach. Then my hands started shaking, my mind started racing, my face and head started sweating. Within 2 minutes, I could feel adrenaline in my arms and legs causing weakness and an uncertainty that I could drive the truck any further.

I could hear my heart pounding in my ears and feel it pounding in my chest. I was trying to pay attention to my breathing, trying to consciously slow it so as not to hyperventilate. I knew I needed to get turned around and back to a safe place. Fortunately, there isn’t a lot of traffic at 4 am on a Sunday morning. I made a U-turn and drove back, slowly, to my friend’s. I parked my truck, went inside and knocked on her door.

I knew I wasn’t going to make it to the flea market that day.

(To Be Continued...)