Mindfulness and other things that fill me with terror

The Friday before last, I attended a work retreat that threw me into a week-long panic attack. The theme of the retreat was "Mindfulness" and there were meditation exercises. I have mentioned before what the inside of my head is like? I certainly don't want to spend time alone in there. Before one of the meditations, the facilitator talked about how the purpose of mindfulness is to let go of attachment which apparently leads to an end of suffering or some other such bullshit (I may be paraphrasing this a bit dismissively, so as to be able to think about it). I should say that I am attached to lots of things. Lots. I have passionate attachments to sentences even that I like to repeatedly run through my head. Just the suggestion that attachment might be a bad thing made my shoulder blades tighten so much I thought they might snap. Anyway, then he said something about how "you can't fail at mindfulness" and I was like, "oh, fuck yes I can."

I should say that I don't think this reaction is normal, and it seemed like most people did not feel like they were dying during the million hour long exercise that followed. (Actually, it was 10 minutes, which I know only because everyone else was like "Wow. That was 10 minutes? It went so fast.")

Anyway, my heart rate seemed to settle back to a normal range sometime last Wednesday. Thank god. Because for about 5 days, it was all panic and discontent. Basically it felt like my early 20s, which, fucking hell, is exactly what I've constructed my entire life against.

Luckily, the next few weeks should be cake because I have nothing coming up that I need to worry about. Unless of course you count the end of the quarter (grades), the beginning of the next quarter (syllabi), and that little trip I have next week (AWP). Does it surprise you to hear I had an AWP anxiety dream last night wherein we forgot all the books and couldn't find our hotel? Because it does not surprise me.