Pineapple, Orange, Banana, Strawberry, Pine-banana, Orange-berry-pine, Straw-apple-berry. As I stood in the concentrated juice area of my friendly neighborhood Food King, I was suddenly overwhelmed. There were just too many choices. Too many.
Then, as if I were watching a movie, the entire store started getting bigger and bigger, or was I getting smaller and smaller? I couldn't tell. The only thing I knew for sure was that somewhere between the frozen juices and dairy sections, I had started to lose my mind. The fluorescent lighting overhead was blinding me and I couldn't take even one more step. I was terrified. My eyes, the size of plates, darted around the market, there were people everywhere, but no one seemed to notice that the world as I knew it was collapsing. I tried to inhale but couldn't quite get enough oxygen to my lungs.
Oh God no, please, not now, not again. It was happening more and more frequently and even though I knew what to expect, I gave into the fear anyway. The familiar sting of tears filled my eyes as I struggled to breathe ... sharp, quick breaths gave way to a dog- like pant as the grocery store started to turn on its side. Spinning, spinning, sirens went off in my head. I reached for my cart but missed and fell to a heap on the floor.
"I had a panic attack at the market the other day," I said to my therapist.
"What were you doing when the attack occurred?" she asked.
Snowboarding, you silly broad, what in cripes' sake do you think I was doing? Sometimes I wanted to Sunday-punch her.
Her lips twitched as she sensed my walls going up. Nevertheless, she sat and patiently waited for my answer.
"I was trying to make a juice choice when it occurred to me that I was also out of milk and cereal and cheese and bread and snacks and ... time." Tears spilled from my eyes again at the memory. "It just snowballed as I realized that I'm almost 40 years old and my life is like the movie Groundhog Day. Every day is the same thing, repeatedly, over and over again. It's as though the entire world is moving forward but I'm standing still. I don't have what I want and for the life of me ... I haven't a clue how to get it ..." My voice trailed off as I began to feel overwhelmed again.
"Take a deep breath," she said, softening.
"And"—I was openly sobbing at this point—"and suddenly, I was ... desperately lonely, and so ... completely engulfed in fear. I failed at the biggest relationship I have ever had. How can I ever trust myself enough to try again? I am so tired of being alone. I want to be part of a team, yet I won't let anyone get close. I'm so stupid! Why did I leave? If only I could ..."
Her words were simple and evenly measured. "You can't. You can't go back and change the past. All you can do is make peace with it, Sonja."
I stared at her blankly, she had been saying the same thing for years and at times, I thought I understood what she meant, but at that moment, all I felt was lost and afraid.
"If you want to move forward, if you feel as though you are truly ready to let go and move on with your life, you have to do one thing first," she said.
One thing? Holy cow, now she tells me? I can do one thing.
"You have to forgive yourself," she said.
What the ???
"You have to make amends with yourself. Stop taking all the blame, it takes two to make it and it takes two to break it. You did what you thought was right for you at the time. You need to see that there are no right or wrong choices in life, there are simply things that we do and things that we do not do. The trick is learning to live with the choices that we make without regrets. I want you to do something for me." And with that, she opened a drawer at her desk.
"Look in the mirror, Sonja, and make peace with the woman that you see. Free your heart; tell her that you forgive her."
I took the mirror from her and as I looked in it, I was shocked. I was in dire need of a facial and a good eyebrow plucking.
"Go beyond the physical," she said; she knows me so well.
"Hi." I felt like a complete idiot. "Um, I can't do this," I said, putting the mirror on my lap.
"Yes you can," answered my head-shrinker sternly.
I lifted the mirror and decided to do what she said. The sooner I completed my task, the sooner I could get the hell out of there. When I looked in the mirror again, something happened. The woman staring back at me broke my heart. She looked so sad, so terribly sad and afraid. I wanted to comfort her.
"Hey, it's OK." I stopped, trying to find the right words. "I think I understand what you were doing all those years ago. You needed to find yourself, to give yourself the opportunity to set this world on fire. Who knew then that you were just a complete loon?" After some time passed, I went on.
"I forgive you," I faltered, but only for a moment, "and ... I love you." Tears streamed down my cheeks, "and I'm tired of holding onto the past, and feeling sorry for myself. I'm tired of living in fear, I'm ready to move forward. I deserve to be happy."
Slowly, a smile spread across the lips of the woman in the mirror and I knew I had gotten through to her. The sadness in her eyes lifted and seemed to be replaced by the slightest glimmer of hope, something that she'd been missing for a very long time.
"What do you see?" asked my therapist.
"She is relieved. She is excited about the future. She feels stronger than she has in years. And the best part of all," I said, putting the mirror down, "is that she is me."
Sonja is a writer who covers the ins and outs of relationships. Or is it the ups and downs?