Anxiety Attack at the Mall

I had what I am calling a panic attack at the Jordan Creek Mall the other day.  Or maybe you want to call it a hissy fit.  Or maybe it was just me behaving badly.  But here is what happened:

I was very tired when I got home from work that night.  As soon as I got home I had to haul one of my children to visit some of his friends—in fact, they were going to “hang out” at the same mall we ended up at.  Then when I got home, I did not get a chance to relax before we were taking my other son to the mall so he could buy a hooded sweat shirt.

I hate indoor shopping malls.  In fact, I hate shopping in general.  If there is something I need to buy, I will go buy it, but I don’t really shop—I get in, find what I want, and get out as soon as possible.

I make it a goal to never go into indoor shopping malls.  I consider myself lucky if I don’t have to enter one more than once a year.

Jordan Creek is an expensive mall.  I have sort of a “poor boy” complex.  While I could easily afford most of the stuff there, I grew up poor (or thinking I was—financially it was true, but at the time I did not realize how wealthy  I was in other ways), and always have the feeling that even if I bought the expensive stuff I still would not be a member of the club.  I think that attitude affects my attitude towards golf, skiing, and a number of other expensive activities.

I also think that malls are the antithesis  of  everything I value—particularly nature.  There is no fresh air—in fact it is contaminated by perfumes.  There is no music of birds or insects–just auto-tuned noise from young poets who have no life experience yet.  No wind, no exhilarating heat or cold.

So Max went look for his sweat shirt, and Pat and I sat on a bench to wait for him.  I found that for the life of me I could not sit still.  I am usually a fairly calm person, but for the life of me I could only fidget.  I could not hold a conversation.  I just kind of twitched and rocked until Max came back and we could move.  I felt a little sorry for Pat—she deserves a little better behavior from me.

Once we were able to move I could handle myself a little better, but I still was in a rush to get out of the mall.  You cannot imagine how great it felt to get out of there.

Life is better today.  Just don’t ask me to go to a mall.


About the roused bear

Nature photographer from central Iowa.
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2 Responses to Anxiety Attack at the Mall

  1. i understand. I have always told my kids to pay attention to the names of places, as they are usually what was replaced. fox run? the developer displaced some foxes. pheasant ridge? they tore up pheasant habitat.

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