Can a Fake Plastic Breakfast Cure a Panic Attack?

Um… probably not. But this kind can…
“The world is going to end and I’ll never get my book written in time to save it!” That was the crazy thought I had last night at 1am while riding home on BART. Suddenly, my heart raced, breathing quickened, stomach churned, and I started to sweat. I tried taking slow, deep breaths, but that didn’t help. I scrunched down in my seat, afraid my fellow passengers would think I was crazy or wasted, or that BART police were going to come through and toss me off the train for being inebriated. Which I wasn’t.
Why am I telling you this? Because sometimes all the news about plastic pollution and research and blogging and worrying about writing the Fake Plastic Fish book can throw me into my head, where I get trapped into spiraling negative thoughts. And when that happens the only thing to do is concentrate on the physical moment, breathe, ride it out, and when I get a chance, eat.
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