The roads not taken
After the properly scary events of yesterday - which curiously seem like several days ago now - my body seems to be rallying somewhat. The pain in my shoulder, side, and arm has gone. I just have a snotty nose and occasional cough to deal with.
A good friend checked in on me after sharing the whole panic attack episode, and I dropped my walls for once - admitting that in the thick of it - in the middle of wondering what the hell might be going on with me - my thoughts had immediately turned to regret.
If those moments had been "it" (which is ridiculous, but you think ridiculous things when you panic), the first thought that came to mind was that I hadn't told the people that matter to me how much they mattered to me. That I would be gone without them knowing.
These idiot thoughts happened while marching around the house, not really knowing what to do next - with my brain going twenty times faster than normal - simultaneously self diagnosing, working through every probable cause, every "health hack", and every outcome that might unfold.
Immediately after the world righted itself, I found myself in a succession of meetings throughout the afternoon - and had no opportunity to unpack everything that had happened.
It's the "roads not taken" thing, isn't it.
When the chips are down, the rules change. In normal day-to-day life, when people ask us how we are, we say "oh, I'm fine". We don't want to burden others with our unfiltered thoughts and feelings. We keep our dreams locked safely away - like Mr Darling - only taking them out while the rest of the world sleeps. We are brave - just like Mr Darling - and just as stupid.