When Skies are Grey

I had a wonderful birthday yesterday. Carmen took me out for a breakfast of champions, Pillowpants was a charming companion during the day, I got phonecalls from Waleed, Nadine, 3 Jennifers and 2 Karens, and Greg hosted a very cosy party at his Williamsburgh pad, that stretched well into the night and featured appearances by Jazmin, Gavin and Shauna, Sarah and Ayman, as well as the delectable Black Betty. It was more than I could have asked for and more of a good time than I usually know what to do with. I've been accused of being a morose mofo before (and it's hardly undeserved) but I'm not enough of one to not enjoy a good time when it's handed to me, nor to be ungrateful for it. So, to everyone, thank you.

Not being very impressed by the spotlight, I'd seldom enjoyed my birthday. My mother used to tell me that I had a really high temperature for the first five birthdays that I had, to the point that she had a commisioned a wizard to prepare a spell to keep me safe.

To my non-Egyptian readers, this may seem like absolute madness, what I just wrote, but in my part of the world, even among the educated and the so-called enlightened, the evil eye, the forces of envy and the fear of black magic are very real. As recently as when I was around 27, I found a rolled up note under my mattress in Egypt: my mother had commisioned a spell to protect me, because she was convinced the reason I was so disagreeable, was because I was under the influence of magic forces. The real reason, of course, is that I'm quite the asshole.

Anyways, I woke up this morning with a smile on my face. And, while I know it's human nature to root for a happy ending, I regret to inform that this isn't a novel by J.D. Robb or a crowd-pleasing, happy-ending Hollywood romantic comedy: this is my blog, as accurate a reflection of my so-called life as you'll ever find. Which is why I have the kind of pathetic obligation to report to you that I've spent the majority of the day negotiating a series of small-scale panic attacks, nothing too big but enough to make me uneasy all day.

I've become very adept at analyzing my various moods and the differently-hued clouds that sail overhead, on any given sunny day. As far as I can tell, on this occasion, my panic attacks are motivated by three things.

1. I'm not very good at handling a return to a normal day, after a day or period of uncharacteristic happiness. Which means that I'm not actually unhappy today, just unable to deal with not having another happy day today.
2. Attention, of any kind, really, really paralyzes me. I'm used to being ignored, looked past, looked around, looked away from and over-looked, the moment I'm actually looked at, I begin to think that can't be right. I don't even get nervous, I just drive myself crazy wondering what all the fuss is about and why it doesn't stop. Today, I'm still asking myself the same question about yesterday and worrying that I haven't been a good enough friend to warrant all the attention. All irrational and all ludicrous, I know that in my head. But these feelings aren't coming from my head: they start in my depths and my head starts working overtime to make any sense of them.
3. When good things happen (getting my citizenship), I find that I struggle to accept that things have now worked out and that I have no excuses for tackling the next challenge. Like anyone else, new challenges scare me. But not in any exaggerated, psycho-pathological manner. In many ways, this reason is the most normal and human of all my impulses, and my reaction to it is among my very strong character features. I respond to it by becoming more disciplined, facing my fears head on and charging ahead, slightly faster than I normally would. I almost never avoid a fight or a challenge and while that can sometimes border on a manic obsession to do more, most times it's just a very healthy response mechanism. Until that response kicks in, however, all I'm left with is low level anxiety and worry.

C'est tout, mes amis. Please, no commiseration, I don't really like that. And please don't tell me I'm doing this to myself, because I'm not. Everyone has this particular brand of crazies, and this is merely a sample of mine.