Have you ever had a panic attack?  They aren't fun.  I suppose they are different for everyone, but for me my body shakes uncontrollably, my heart feels like it's going to beat its way out of my chest, my hands sweat profusely and my lungs just can't seem to get enough air. Like I said, not fun.

I had a tough day at work this past week (Wednesday to be specific) and ever since then I've been having these panic attacks.  I don't want to rehash all the details of what happened, but I ended up in a situation where I was physically threatened and intimidated by one of my current students.

At the time, I was angry.  But as more time passed, and I had to face up to and deal with the situation, I realized that I was, for the first time in my entire teaching career (which has actually become a fair length of time) scared of a student.

I think this incident made me realize just how vulnerable one can be in a teaching situation.  It's occurred to me in the past but only as an abstract idea.  Now that I have a specific personal experience it has really struck me.  And I guess I am having a bit of a hard time coping.

I'm somewhat ashamed to admit it, but I have actually avoided going to work since then.  Both Thursday  and Friday I got up for work, showered, and as I was getting ready for the day I would have one of those attacks.  Anyone who has ever experienced one will understand why I couldn't make it out my front door.  If you haven't, I hope you never have to understand.

It's Sunday now, and already I am dreading tomorrow morning.  I know I can't avoid the situation any further - it is unfair to the rest of my students.  I like to think I'm a strong person and will get through this, but I do think sometimes strength is shown through the admission of your fears.  And the truth is, I am afraid.  I am afraid to walk into the building, I am afraid to face that student in class, and most importantly I am afraid I will never feel comfortable at work again.  But the worst part?  I am completely ashamed of myself for being so afraid.

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So I suck.

It's interesting to me, really, how it is that I am able to function in society while being so socially inept.  I have recently realized I am a complete moron when it comes to social interaction.  And while I would like to say that it's only in matters relating to the opposite sex, that wouldn't be entirely accurate. Though it does seem my problems with them seem much worse.

The worst thing about the whole situation is that I actually know what my problem is.  Somehow I think I don't deserve to be treated as well as I do. And until I figure it out and start demanding it, I'm never going to get it.

A couple of years ago (about two months before I met my most recent ex) I went on a first date with this guy.  We went skating and then grabbed some food and had a lot of fun.  We got along quite well; there were never any conversational lulls and we laughed a lot.

When I got off the subway on my way home I had a voice mail message from him.  He told me how he'd had a great time with me and hoped we could hang out again soon.  I even talked to him later that night and he told me the same thing.

Sounds good, right?  I wouldn't be an idiot for assuming that it was a successful first date.

Except I did, and I was an idiot.

After a couple of weeks after the date we had talked a few times, and I had even suggested getting together but something always came up.  We were both busy so I didn't think much of it - it's tough sometimes to find the free time in my schedule that coincides with the free time in someone else's. 

Then one day, he sent me the email.  Even thinking about it now makes me blush with the embarrassment I felt when I read it.

He basically said he thought I would have figured it out by now, but clearly I hadn't caught on to the fact that he wasn't interested in me.  That he just didn't feel any connection when we met, and thought it was pretty obvious. 

I blamed myself of course. How stupid could I be? How did I not realize?  It was so obvious.

Except no, it wasn't.  If he wasn't interested, why did he call before I was even home from the date to tell me he had such a good time?  Why did he suggest meeting up again? Why did he keep returning my phone calls and emails? And when I did try to arrange a second date, why didn't he just say he wasn't interested?

After a couple of similar experiences I started to learn that you can't always take what guys say at face value.  And I was determined not to let myself be humiliated like that again.

So when I started dating again after my ex dumped me (another awesome story of stupidity and humiliation, but we'll save that for another time) I remembered the lessons of my past and was determined not to make the same mistakes.

So when a guy I had recently been casually dating (and despite what he seems to think, it was casual on my end as well since I've been seeing a couple people over the past couple months) went from making time to see me to not having time for the next two or three weeks, I became suspicious.  Was he really just too busy?  Or was this another one of those signals I was usually too ignorant to see?

I know what I should have done was say okay, fine, and leave it up to him.  If he called and I had time for him, great, and if he didn't call, his loss. 

But of course, I didn't.  Because it just felt like game playing and I hate that.  I just wanted him to be honest with me.  So I asked.  I asked if he was trying to nicely hint at me to get lost.  And then he not so nicely told me to get lost.

What he said was he wanted something casual and felt I wanted more and he hated feeling like he always had to explain himself to me.  At first I felt frustrated, because he didn't actually ever address my question.  Then I felt like it was my fault, like if I had just shut up and waited, he would have eventually found time for me.

But as I was writing this, I realized he did answer my question.  Because if he really did like me, and enjoyed spending time with me but was just really busy, then that's what he would have told me when I asked.  The fact that he said get lost, regardless of the reasons he gave, tells me I was right on.

The thing that I think really sucks about all this is that he managed to turn it back on me, and make me feel like I was somehow the one at fault.  Like there's something wrong with wanting to feel like a person you're dating (be it casually or not) is interested in spending time with you.  But why should I feel bad about wanting to feel liked?  And why is it a crime to ask for reassurance?  I wasn't asking for anymore of his time; I even said I understood we were both busy (it's not like I have an abundance of free time myself) and was totally cool with waiting a few weeks to see him again.  I just wanted to know that I wasn't waiting for nothing.  And I fail to see how that's overstepping the bounds of casual.

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Over the past few days I've been bed-ridden with a nasty flu virus, and after a while I found myself desperate for something to occupy my time besides Nyquil-induced slumber.  So I turned to an old friend, a reliable comfort, a simple pleasure - chick-lit.

Yes I admit it, I read chick-lit.  No, it's not all I read, but sometimes, such as the times when you're a little under the weather, you're looking for something to amuse and entertain without much effort on your part.  For me, chick-lit does just the trick.

There's only one problem with this little equation, and that's the fact that when I am sick, I become extremely emotionally vulnerable.  Which means that these silly little books often make me cry.  And by often I mean always.  And by cry, I mean gut-wrenching sobs.  By all accounts it's not pretty.

The fromage de jour yesterday was a cute little story about three friends, all with different attitudes about relationships, and all suffering from her own individual issues.  They make a pact over a year to drastically change their lives, and though they fail to meet the goals they originally set for themselves their attempts to change ultimately make them happier.  I couldn't remember the title if my life depended on it (Chasing Harry Winston - I just found it in my bed!) but it was written by the same woman who brought us the literary classic The Devil Wears Prada.

By all English teacher standards it was a terrible book.  But by chick-lit standards I really enjoyed it.  I laughed, I cried, and I barely noticed the bloody nose I gave myself from too much nose blowing. But as entertaining as it was, something about it really bothered me.  In the final chapters, the serial-monogamist girl who takes a job touring the world looking for serving ideas for the restaurant she works for and vows to sleep with a different man on every continent she visits ends up running into the guy who "rejected" her in Paris while in a bar in L.A. only to find out he:
a) Actually didn't reject her, but left her a note that was never delivered to her by the hotel staff
b) Was visiting L.A. but had just moved to New York (which is conveniently where she was also living)
c) Was just about to leave the bar to go do "night duty" at his brother's place watching his new nephew so his brother and wife could get some rest (her last boyfriend, a jerk of course, had left her because he didn't want kids and she did)...

...ok, I'm going to pause here while you take that all in, because it's quite a lot to absorb.

All good?

Ok, so anyway, I know we all love a good happy ending, but really, this was pushing it.  Also, part of the point was for this girl to realize she could be happy without a man, so she realizes it and then 5 minutes later this new, independent her finds the perfect man?  I know I'm not the most idealistic person, but come on, even a dreamer with her head in the clouds knows life doesn't work like this. It just doesn't!

On the chick-lit scale, I am rating this book 3 fried eggs, sunny-side up, out of a possible 5 eggs.  I'd give it a 4, but the ending just left me with a syrupy taste in my mouth, and I personally, have always been partial to savoury snacks.

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