Monday, January 09, 2006


Fear is a personal friend of mine. It has been with me so long now that I almost don’t remember a time without fear, but I do. I remember being fearless when I was 5 and younger. I remember the carefree, joyousness of each day, bounding out of bed and ready to tackle any and all adventures. I can actually still feel it in my very soul and everyday after the loss of my freedom, I have been striving to get it back, like Peter Pan trying to hold on to his shadow.

Each day, each hour and every minute, I congratulate myself on completing the moment before, on putting one step before the next, on accepting the challenge of going worth in this world. No one knows I feel this way. People that know me would never believe these feelings are harbored within me. But, quite often, the only thing that keeps me going is that I am a survivor and I refused to be beaten, especially by something as insubstantial as fear. People often wonder why I don’t “do more with my life.” If they only knew how hard it was to just keep breathing, they wouldn’t wonder. And believe me, this isn’t depression and I’m not suicidal. I am immobilized. I am blocked and hindered by this vast wall of nothingness that feels like a barricade.

I am not afraid of snakes or heights or closed in places or real substantial things that make some sort of sense. I am afraid of the unknown. This is why getting out of bed in the morning is so frightening. I never know how the day will go or whom I will meet or what obstacle will be placed within my path. It is so hard to start something when you are so afraid of how the process will go. Not just the outcome. I really don’t care about succeeding or failing (I used to think that’s what it was) but I am afraid of not knowing what is going to happen. Once I am in the process, I feel better and I whiz through things, No Prob.

I lost my faith in my self at such a young age: my ability to discern, my ability to protect, my ability to hear my own voice. As the years go by, as each day is negotiated, and the fear hasn’t become a real monster, I get somewhat better, but there is still a huge pocket of the ugly, grimy stuff that threatens to suffocate me on occasion.


  1. i remember being afraid of going to school, for fear of what anguish teh others would decide to put me through that day.
    upon arriving late i had to fill out a late slip; unfer reason for lateness i put "schoolphobia". the supervising teacher - then my head of year read it over my sholder and told me it was a stupid reason. i didnt reply, i just turned around at stared at him, into his eyes.
    he backed down.

  2. sherry - I think it's smart to be afraid of them (I won't write the word so you don't have to read it.) I mean, they can do things to you.

    ceccg - So many people shouldn't be teachers. You can't even call someone like that a teacher, how insensitive. I always liked the learning part of school, but I didn't socialize well. I was picked on alot, too. Somehow I was always different and I never figured out why.

  3. I know what you are talking about. I have this all free floating anxiety. Sometimes I can hardly breathe. It's always there, like a continent. A dark, unchartered, unfriendly one.

    Sometimes I have these panic attacks when driving.

    Have learned to breathe in through one nostril and out the other to calm myself down.