The next five minutes

(originally written 10/21/06)

Right after my panic attack was the darkest moment Deb and I went through. You see, it was my proposing to her that set off my panic attack.

Panic attacks, for those who've never had one, are the closest things to a heart attack you can get without actually having one. You can't stop thinking you're going to die. All you can do is keep reminding yourself to breathe, because if you don't, you'll die. All your emotions had ganged up on you and attack your body. Your chest hurts. Your brain kicks into overdrive. You can't move.

That's what happened to me a couple of days after I proposed. I tried to convince myself it wasn't because of the proposal, but it was undeniable. And Deb knew it.

It wasn't that I didn't love Deb. It was that I wasn't sure if I LOVED Deb. Big difference.

Our relationship evolved into love. It didn't start with a bang. It didn't start out as puppy love. It was something that grew. And having never done it that way before, I wasn't sure it was something that would last.

I told her this the next day after the attack had passed. She offered to give back the ring. Then she broke down crying, wondering if we were going to break up, if I wanted her to move out or if I was going to leave.

I told her that wasn't what I wanted. All I did know was the idea of forever scared the hell out of me.

I didn't want a guarantee that the rest of our lives would be perfect, I told her. I couldn't think that far ahead. All I could count on was the next five minutes.

OK, she said. I'll take it. We'll take it five minutes at a time.

I told her to keep the ring. If she could accept those terms, I knew she was worth fighting for.

Eventually, and with help from my therapist, what I figured out was that I had earned Deb's love through time and patience, not from instant chemistry, and that it was more durable because of that. Something you earn is always more precious than something you're given. And that's why it lasted.

Every now and then, we'd ask each other if we were good for the next five minutes. When we got into a disagreement, we'd ask. When things were going good, we'd ask. When we had nothing else to say, we'd ask.

Now that she's gone, people keep telling me to take it one day at a time. I say I will.

But to be honest, I'm taking it five minutes at a time.