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I Am Superman, And I Can’t Do Anything
Sometimes, though, I’m grateful for being the way I am. Riddled with worry, fear, and regret. Because it makes it hard to pretend to be something I’m not. In a way, panic attacks are like a super power.
“What is finished… is the idea that this great country is dedicated to the freedom and flourishing of every individual in it. It’s the individual that’s finished. It’s the single, solitary human being that’s finished. It’s every single one of you out there that’s finished, because this is no longer a nation of independent individuals. It’s a nation of some 200-odd million transistorized, deodorized, whiter-that-white, steel-belted bodies, totally unnecessary as human beings, and as replaceable as piston rods… Well, the time has come to say, is dehumanization such a bad word. Because good or bad, that’s what is so. The whole world is becoming humanoid – creatures that look human but aren’t. The whole world not just us. We’re just the most advanced country, so we’re getting there first. The whole world’s people are becoming mass-produced, programmed, numbered, insensate things… ” –Howard Beale, from NetworkFor a pretty young person, I’ve held many jobs. Cashier, waitress, dietary aide in a nursing home, housekeeper, real estate agent, secretary, production assistant; they all have one thing in common. At some point in time, I could not take it. I mean, I could not physically or mentally do the job. These are not hard jobs. That wasn’t it. But I’d have bad nightmares. Panic attacks before, during, after my shifts.
It’s said that while the symptoms of a panic attack are very real (heart racing, hyperventalation, heart palpatations) the danger is not. I disagree. I think the danger is real. Sure, there’s not a panther hunting you in a jungle, but your body is telling you something, and you should listen. Your head might be in denial, but it’s sending signals, so your body is letting you know you’re not okay. That’s why it doubles as a gift and a curse. A curse, for obvious reasons. A gift because it just may be the one thing that keeps you from becoming one of Howard Beale’s humanoids.
The irony is, the world needs humanoids. We need people part of the machine, in order for the machine to function. If everyone were like me, unable to control building rage, no one would ever work for 30 years in an office, or on an assembly line. The thought of becoming this way sickens me. And all the things I hate about myself keep me from becoming this.
My greatest weakness is my super power.
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