FEAR: No Beer

Man, I loved the band Fear. Loved a lot of good old punk, and I still do. Getting out to shows now is an effort in futility, but a gal can hope. 

My fear isn't about missing a concert, though. I know, I know; no shit. My fear is about missing out on the hugs and laughs of a lifetime. Cheesy, but there it is; the fear of Something Wrong in my Brain is all-encompassing and I do not want to miss the chance to laugh with friends, family, strangers and animals! 

Dammit, I haven't danced with my husband yet and I intend to dance my silly ass into retirement with him, nerves or no nerves!

Breathe. 

I'm breathing. 

I get angry. Scared. Panicked. Petrified. Horrified at what is slowly taking away my once reliable limbs and mind and nervous system. 

So I breathe. 

Breathe. 

Deeply, until my head slows down and I can --- can what? Silence the panic? Pretend I'm not what I am, or what I am not? 

Until I can distract myself with something, anything to forget the Fear. 

Man...I want beer. MORE BEER