A Healthy Glow

My panic attacks began in childhood. Attempts to socialize ended with tears and hyperventilating. I was a recluse, so my parents hired a therapist. He prescribed medication that numbed the anxiety--along with everything else. Even with anxiety, I was still me. On the medication, I became a shell.

After I moved out of my parents’ house, I stopped taking the pills. I told the therapist I’d found someone else. That was true--I found someone. She wasn’t a therapist, though.

On an “alternative medicine” forum, a user named AnxiousAbe recommended a woman in my area who procured “healing crystals.” It sounded like a gimmick, but he claimed Madame Mira cured his anxiety. I messaged AnxiousAbe, asking if this Madame Mira was the real deal. He swore she was, and gave me her address.

I rang the bell, and a woman came out and introduced herself as Madame Mira. Her face was saggy and thickly wrinkled--she looked 90, maybe older.

Sharing my story, I felt more comfortable than I ever had with the therapist. It was like the great weight of anxiety was already dissipating.

“I have just the thing for you,” she said, disappearing into the back. She returned moments later with a yellow crystal necklace, smooth and heavy. At the core, I could just make out something shiny.

“A very powerful charm,” Mira explained. “Metal from a meteor, encased in amber. Wear it always, and feel your fears, your anxiety, melt away. “ Holding the crystal, I swear there was warmth emanating from it, almost like it was… alive.

I wore the crystal constantly. I slept with it, showered with it, twirled it in my hands.

Feeling the warmth of the crystal against my chest, I grew confident. It empowered me to talk to people, make friends, even flirt! In just a few days, it seemed like the crystal’s warmth had spread throughout my entire body, giving me a healthy glow of self esteem.

I returned to Mira’s shop hoping to acquire more crystals, but I found the door blocked with police tape. A cop was poking around. I called out to him, asking after the proprietor.

“She’s in jail,” he said gruffly. I asked why, but he ignored me. Seeds of doubt and anxiety crept in for the first time in days.

I messaged AnxiousAbe, asking if he’d heard anything about Mira’s arrest.

Turns out her day job was an orderly at the hospital. She got busted for stealing from them.

“Ah. Drugs.” I replied, running my fingers through my hair, ashamed of myself for trusting an addict. She probably gave me junk metal in colored glass.

No, actually. She was stealing equipment.

“What kind?” I asked, pulling anxiously at my hair.

An old chemo device. That’s where she got her scrap metal.

“Chemo device?”

Yeah. For radiation treatment.

The warmth within me suddenly felt hot. I slowly pulled my hand away from my head, and with it came a big clump of hair.