The second class was dismissed, I did what I always do when faced with a crisis. I sped to the Valley to put some distance between me and other people, so I could safely (and loudly) vent my frustrations aloud to God. 

But, before I got to a place in the Valley that was peaceful enough for me to feel comfortable praying aloud, I sped up a hill on Wadsworth Boulevard to cross the intersection of Ken Caryl Avenue when, in my peripheral vision, I spotted a silver Hyundai Sonata speeding up as it turned onto the highway. Initially, I figured the driver would only veer into the right lane, but instead, the sedan swerved all the way over into my lane.

I had no time to think, I simply reacted, slamming hard on my brakes to avoid crushing the trunk of that recklessly slow car like a brown paper bag. The scent of tire smoke filled my nostrils as my brakes locked and I fish-tailed side-to-side. Amazingly (and, admittedly, with my eyes closed), I avoided plowing into the trunk of that car (which, by the way, had its right turn signal blinking away, to add insult to injury), and nobody behind me slammed into my ass. Once my 4,000 pound Xterra miraculously slowed down to a mere 35 miles per hour, I quickly got into the right lane to pass the car, where I got a decent glimpse of the driver. Of course, it was a lady who looked to be at least old enough to have witnessed the birth of Christ. She certainly shouldn't have been allowed to drive anymore. 

In the safety of the right lane with the geriatric driver far behind me, I could no longer stifle my fear. Tears silently streamed down my cheeks as my left leg shivered intensely to the point it hurt worse than a Charley-Horse. My breaths were shallow and short. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. My throat felt strained and sore as I still tried to force down the lump in my throat. I struggled to grasp the steering wheel in my shaking, sweating palms. And my vision was tunneled. 

I did end up pulling over close to my house so I could regain control over my breathing and leg muscles before driving again. As I fought to regain control over my body, I wiped my tears away with the sleeve of my hoodie. It was almost 85 degrees outside, and I didn't have the AC going. Yet, I was still very cold. Almost hypothermic. 

After a few moments of sitting in a parking lot, chugging water, shivering, and wiping away tears, I successfully regained control over my body just enough to get to the valley safely. 

I found a secluded place in the valley, sheltered and hidden among Gamble Oaks and great red rocks. Magenta Musk Thistles, scarlet Indian Paintbrushes, and bright yellow Stonecrop were among the numerous wildflowers in full bloom, filling the air with their sweet and weedy scents. A warm sun shone down from partly cloudy skies, and a slight breeze just barely bowed the heads of the late summer grasses. 

I didn't venture far from the Xterra (which I'd parked in the shadow of God's Ass), but the red rocks and lack of other cars parked nearby made it feel like I was entirely alone and isolated in the wilderness. There, I could safely (and loudly) communicate with God. 

But, I simply lacked the energy to actually speak to God aloud, or even in my thoughts. I was still shaking pretty badly, and my knees were getting weak. I found a shaded ledge underneath the red rocks of God's Ass to collapse onto. I sat close to the edge of the rock ledge (which wasn't far above from the grass below), with my knees close to my chest. I rested my palms on my knees till my hands stopped shaking and my breathing was more controlled. Sooner than I expected, I felt calm. Not exactly relaxed, but I felt almost normal. More importantly, I felt strength returning to my weary legs, and warmth radiating throughout my body. 

With my body temperature returning, I got to my feet and took my hoodie off. I dramatically stretched out my calves and biceps, taking in deep, calm breaths as I did so. Finally, upon cracking my knuckles and toes, I felt like a new woman. Nature, once again, had rejuvenated my exhausted soul. Now, I had the strength to stand up to the Creator of the universe in prayer. 

My prayer never came out in words. Rather, it was more of a feeling of mine that had most of my attention. I could still feel the anxiety coursing through my veins. My muscles were tense and sore, especially those in my back, core, and legs. I couldn't hold my trembling hands still even if I tried, and I paced around the rocks like a prowling tiger, panting from the heat. 

In my mind, I once again wondered what was wrong with me. Why was I so afraid and panicky? Sure, I had every reason to be frazzled after almost getting killed by a clueless dementia patient, but that wasn't really why I was so frightened. Death didn't scare me, but my college class damn sure did. Honestly, I felt (and still feel) very embarrassed by that, as my nervousness surrounding it isn't a normal level of nervousness. 

Sure, everyone who has to speak publicly may get nervous and worried about it. They may get knots in their stomach or lay awake the night before their speech. But, my anxiety was so much worse. I'd been dreading it all summer, trying to find any loophole that would allow me to avoid the class and still get my Associate's Degree. I'd been having repetitive nightmares, not just of sliding off a foggy cliff and crashing into the ocean, but also of being put on trial for something I never did, and of being publicly shamed in class for doing a shitty job on an assignment (well... that's more of a memory than just a dream). I'd been running on almost pure adrenaline during the week leading up to the class, and it wasn't subsiding even though I'd gotten a first taste of that semester. 

Obviously, my fear of public speaking was so much worse than anyone realized, and I simply didn't know how to cope with it.