Anxiety

I had never been an anxious type of person.  I moved to an entirely different country and way of life with no qualms whatsoever.  I started a restaurant without knowing   how to cook with no hesitation.  I went through two pregnancies and a couple of miscarriages without missing a beat, and had overcome my long-time fear of scuba diving.  I certainly had my fair share of stress but ANXIOUS?  I was never anxious, at least not until I realized I WAS.

It began when the girls were quite small, they had started school by then and everything was fine.  One day I went diving and realized something was wrong, I was having trouble breathing.  Thinking there was something wrong with my regulator I surfaced, only to find that my breathing still wasn’t right.  I was gasping for air and my heart was beating too fast, it was a very scary sensation. I sat in the dive boat until it stopped, then flipped over the side to continue my dive.  I didn’t mention it to anyone, and wasn’t too concerned until it happened to me again.  I would get down to about 30 feet and then start hyperventilating, not good when you are diving!  After several such episodes I stopped diving, it just didn’t feel right anymore.

I started having these frightening episodes ALL the time.  On the ferry to town, on the road in a car, swimming in shallow water, even walking through the harbor.  My heart would start beating too fast and I would start gasping for breath. It never once occurred to me to seek medical attention for what I now know were anxiety attacks. I kept them to myself, I wasn’t sick and figured whatever it was would pass.  I saw no sense in alarming my family or staff about my problem, it was mine and mine alone to deal with.

My condition became obvious to Mac on an Air Canada flight.  We were flying to Toronto and were seated near the rear of the ‘plane where turbulence is felt the most.   I had never been afraid of flying, but on this occasion I turned as white as a sheet, gasping for air as my heart pounded. Mac of course was alarmed, and as I didn’t want the children to be frightened I moved to a seat away from the family.  I spent the entire trip sitting as stiff as a board in a row of empty seats, my heart banging away in my chest and my breathing ragged.  It was a dreadful flight! A friend of my Father’s was an airline pilot, and on hearing of my distress he took me to one side.  He explained that a lot of people were afraid of flying, and that I should go ahead and BE afraid, but just for six minutes of the flight.  The three minutes at take-off and the three minutes before landing were the only times I needed to be scared.  That was fine, but what about diving? Sailing? Driving in a car?  It was nice of him to help, but fear of flying wasn’t my only problem!

After that flight I didn’t go anywhere for a couple of years, I was afraid of a repeat performance and simply stayed home.  One day the Prime Minister called, he wanted me to represent Bequia at a trade show in Berlin, and the department of tourism was organizing airline tickets for me.  I declined, saying I could not possibly leave the Pizzeria unattended in March.  Mr. Mitchell persisted, the Berlin Wall was coming down, it was such an historic time for Germany!  Mac also insisted I go, perhaps the ferry, the three airplanes and the bus I would have to take would cure me of my anxiety.  I doubted it, I truly did, but in the end I agreed to go.