Turns out, Henri Matisse suffered all through his life from panic attacks and insomnia. According to Peter Schjeldahl in the New Yorker, “He was a self-abnegating Northerner who lived only to work, and did so in chronic anguish, recurrent panic, and amid periodic breakdowns.”
For example, I decided to get serious about my memoir at the tail end of a very difficult time. My family had gone through illness and death. I found myself living someplace where I didn’t know anybody. And of all things, I was fired from a job I didn’t even want in the first place.
When he reached for my throat, Bonnie shrieked. I shrank and rolled my chair out of reach. The line producer pulled the guy away from me and threw him back into his seat. After a shocked silence, the executive-in-charge demanded that he apologize. He didn’t. The meeting went on as if nothing had happened.
