“Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I” wrote US songwriter Lorenz Hart about the feeling of infatuation. It’s blissful and euphoric, as we all know. But it’s also addicting, messy and blinding. Without careful monitoring, its wild wind can rage through your life leaving you much like the lyrics of a country song: without a wife, […]
I now know who to blame for my feelings of panic and anxiety … Amy.
It’s all her fault.
That’s what I call my amygdala, the delinquent cluster of neurons in the limbic system considered by most neurobiologists as the fear center of the human body, like the “welcome center” of college campuses, except that instead of providing glossy brochures, Amy doles out panic attacks.
This almond shaped group of neurons is responsible for making us act like apes, those very hairy creatures from which we’ve evolved … most of us anyway. Whenever you begin to feel the adrenaline—perhaps, for example, when you open your e-mail to find a thousand messages and among them a Facebook friend request from your ex-boyfriend who smashed your heart like a callous hairy ape–envision the almond neurons, the brat Amy, and warm up a bottle of milk for her.
“Ahhh, there you go. Much better.”
Image courtesy of freeimagelive.com