High Anxiety

The sneaky details of my life were planning a hostile takeover. Just waiting for me to look the other way, so they could creep from behind and wrap their poisonous little ways around my throat. That was their sinister, well-thought out plan.

But what did I know then? I thought I was just excited.

Excited that my girl and I were taking a spontaneous end-of-the-summer trip to Palm Springs , where we could sip Mai Tai’s and lounge by the pool in our designer swimwear that hadn’t seen a ray of the sunshine the entire summer. Couldn’t believe that only a second ago it was June and had big plans about the way our summer was going to unfold – this year.  Then a few summer camps, swim lessons, and field trips later, it was the end of August and the closest either of us had been to anywhere fun or exotic was flipping through the summer getaway article in Essence or Marie Claire.

So when my co-worker's timeshare became available at a price too low to pass up, we pounced on the opportunity. We didn’t even squawk that we were bringing the kids along to our desert oasis.

They’ll play together; occupy themselves. And we could relax, giggle, chat, and be momentarily free.

It was either that, or spend the last free weekend of summer doing back to school shopping at Target. Uniforms and back pack purchases always sounds tempting, but no.

We decided to run the other way.

Never mind I ran around like an insane person in Wal-Mart, on the hunt for any and all the neccessities: Swimsuits. Sandals. Inflatable balls, goggles, beach towels, sunscreen, band-aids, (etc etc.). Couldn’t find a volunteer to dog sit on short notice, so I was forced to pay a stupid amount for her stay at the doggie hotel while we romped out of town. I paid bills, did laundry, packed, straightened the house. What I needed for myself was an afterthought.

And when we got to our destination, as usual - the kids were hungry and wanted to swim, then play video games; which meant a grocery store run to stockpile the juice, water, snacks, fruit, etc. needed for the next few days. Back and forth, another need,  another errand.

So imagine my surprise, when having a quiet moment at the pool: lounging in my bikini, fruity umbrella drink in hand - and suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.

The rest of it happened so fast.

I signaled to my girl. She could see something was wrong, but I suspect my brain didn’t have the oxygen to make the words come out.  I simply sat up in the chair, shaking my head, eyes begging for help. My mind, that was always churning, always a step ahead of the game – suddenly failed me.

I broke into a sweat that had nothing to do with the desert heat. Felt like I was the lone passenger on a runaway train, speeding too fast toward doom. Everything happened. Or, I don’t know what happened. All I know was in a matter of seconds the world got smaller and smaller and threatened to crush me alive if I didn’t cut lose or do something. Anything. Fast.

“I...gotta...get...outta here.” My chest heaved with each word.

“Okay, I'll tell the kids they have 5 more minutes…”

“No!” I knocked over my friend's drink to grab her arm. "Now!”

My girl gathered the kids, dashed back to the condo, swung the van around to come get me. By then I was bent over, trying to remember how to breathe, hands trembling; and thinking with certainty - this is how I die.

Later on, my girl would assure me the whole process took under 10 minutes. To me, it seemed like hours.

I had fallen out of time.

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"The Mad Diary of Ms. Mom," excerpt