Stuck

I had a major anxiety attack today. It hit heaviest as I sat on a bench in Fulton Ferry State Park, between the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges, a place I'd gone to in order to escape what felt like a weight on my chest. I think it's likely the realization that I may be ready to make an offer on an apartment, a move that is terrifying, and yet my response has been to react irrationally to other, ancillary things. Unfortunately, despite the beautiful day, the lovely view of Manhattan, the peace of the park, and the several projects I had with me (a story to revise, a letter to write, an unopened novel to begin), I couldn't sit there more than a few minutes without feeling I would scream. I am afraid that I have now tarnished any visit to that park with the association of panic and dismay.

How stupid to be afraid to make a move, when it's the move I've been anticipating for many months now. I am worried that it means that I'm not enough in love with this apartment, that if it were another I'd have fewer reservations and more certainty, and less angst. And then I tell myself that it's just the natural fear of facing such a large decision. And then I don't know which it is, and it all gets crushed together and I feel worse, and I know even less what I should do.