Part of this blog was to share my experiences with anxiety, panic attacks, PTSD, and depression. Having spent most of my life not talking about it has made writing and sharing more difficult than I had imagined. For me, writing about my feelings, emotions, and thoughts is a therapeutic and personal affair; often times not conducive for storytelling or blogging.
Then there is fear, the most loathsome of four letter words. It effects my ability to write. I fear compromising my privacy. I fear the very public forum I am trying to learn and embrace. I fear whatever criticism may be levied against my lack of writing skills. I fear telling my stories and giving permanence to my thoughts, feelings, and emotions.
Fear, I’ve typed the word six times now and each time I fear I’ve misspelled it. It just doesn’t look right to me in black and white. I know it more as an ever present feeling. With only four letters, it is such a small word to play such a large part in my life. Fear is at the root of my illness. It manifests physically as well as mentally.
Anyone who has had a panic attack knows the pounding feeling of fear rise up and consume them. For me, it’s shaking, sweating, dizziness, disorientation, my heart pounds, and I get a sinking sick feeling in my stomach that is just waiting to lurch up into vomit. My accompanying thoughts are of doom, fainting, falling, being alone and helpless, death, and that I must get home NOW. It can and has rendered me uncommunicative and incapacitated. Fear rules! Until, maybe ten, twenty, thirty minutes, or an hour later fear recedes like the ocean retreating to low tide.
It’s then that the exhaustion hits and all I want to do is rest and sleep, sleep, and sleep some more. Fear has won a battle; but I live to fight another day, to ride out the waves of the next high tide of fear.
I fear the fear for it walks by my side.