Six Feet Tall and Bullet Proof

As I wrote about in my memoir of my first year as a parent, The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, I’ve been suffering from panic attacks ever since my 15-month-old was born. I didn’t have them before. Fits of rage—yes, but panic attacks, no. Now there’s no rage, just panic. I’ve gone down several routes for help: adjustments to my thyroid medication, changes in diet, Xanax, creative visualization and relaxation techniques, acupuncture, the list goes on and on.

As I continue to work toward getting them in check, I’m getting more and more philosophical about it. There an obvious a connection to my son’s birth. I’m sure hormones play a part, since mine are way off anyway. But I’m thinking it’s more about the overwhelming sense of responsibility of having a child. I’ve gone into provider/protector mode, like a mama bear with cubs, always in a state of flight or fight.

I’m realizing that, as a child, my parents, namely my father, was six feet tall and bulletproof. You wouldn’t believe all the crazy trips (running out of gas on a huge lake in a ski boat; hunting in the wilderness—a 10-hour horse ride from any civilization; rafting Class V rapids) as a very young child and I believed the whole time that Dad—or God—would always keep us safe. Literally, there were lions, and tigers, and bears in my childhood and I had no fear, because Daddy was near.

Now at the wise old age of 32, I’m realizing that not only is my father fallible, but I don’t share the same belief in God the same way, and I know from living my life—and September 11—that terrible things DO happen, most of them out of your control. But that doesn’t stop my subconscious from convincing me that I’m completely and totally responsible for everything that comes my child’s way now and in the years to come. That’s enough to drive anyone crazy and I know I’m not alone in this feeling, it just seems like others are handling it better than I.

As I write this, I am again reminded of our recent meeting with Elizabeth Edwards, a woman, whom I confess, I didn’t know much of her past until our meeting prompted me to do my homework. I am amazed at the tragedies she’s been through, her continued positive outlook, and the choices she’s made to continue the joy in her life, (i.e. having a second family at the age of 48). In a generation that’s hard to find role models, she is one for me. She is Six Feet Tall and Bullet Proof.