Apron Strings and Zoloft

Well, as weekends go, this past one was above average. Not because of the events that took place, but rather because of what didn't happen. We didn't go anywhere in particular, we didn't have plans, we didn't entertain. We just sort of hung out at home, which I believe we all need from time to time. No drama, no planning. Just chillin'.

Oddly enough, despite the lack of stress this weekend, my night last night ended with a panic attack. It wasn't terrible, it didn't last very long, but it did happen again. In an effort to get better instead of just get through it, I've started thinking about "Why?" Why do I have panic attacks? There has to be a reason or reasons, certain triggers. Thus far, I've arrived at the following acknowledgments:

My sleeping issues have been slowly rearing their fugly little heads again, and sometimes I wonder if exhaustion isn't a primary trigger for these episodes. I also watched 60 Minutes last night and their report about the people of Haiti and the condition of life there was mesmerizing and heartbreaking. I couldn't breathe. I was unable to stop thinking about the people there, and the fact that thousands of people who lost their lives are being literally bulldozed into mass graves just to deal with the public health concerns that arise from bodies rotting the streets.

Really? It's 2010 and these people are living like the bubonic plague has again struck.

The doctors there, performing miracles under medieval-like medical conditions, should be exalted and emulated. I can't believe what they are doing, what they are seeing, how they are helping. Sterilizing hacksaws with vodka, if necessary, to perform amputations on children. In the name of saving their lives.

There are heroes among us. And the ground upon which they walk is certainly a few inches higher than that upon which the rest of us tread.

The estimated recovery costs are $1 billion dollars. Avatar has grossed $1.6 billion in theaters. Anyone else see a friggin problem with this?

Needless to say, it was enormously difficult for me to sit and enjoy the Golden Globe awards last night, as I normally do, knowing that all of those people there have the means and then some to help. Ugh, such a soapbox I'm on. I need to shut it. Because what am I doing? Having panic attacks and writing about it because I'm distraught over shit I'll, God-willing, never see and never know? How admirable.

It's hard to remain "light and funny" in the face of so much sadness and tragedy in the world. And hard to sleep, as well.