Fear

I used to have panic attacks. I say used to because for the past ten years or so I've pretty much had them under control, but the panic is still there, simmering under the surface, waiting to grab a hold of me. And I'm scared of things. I'm scared of a lot of things. Spiders. The dark. Chicken bones. Driving to places when I don't know where I'm going. Being late. The unknown. Flying.

But mostly I'm scared of fear itself. That if I'm scared it'll turn to panic and I'll lose control. And control is important. Its what makes me feel safe. The coping mechanism that enables me to over-rule the irrational thoughts and calm the physical symptoms that are so overwhelmingly unpleasant.

So I have an instinct to stay within my comfort zone. To avoid doing anything that may cause me to panic. To limit myself to the familiar, to the day-to-day activities that I can cope with without fear. But I have to fight it. The problem with a panic-preventative safety zone is that it continually shrinks. An unexpected twist to a routine activity on any given day can relocate that activity out of bounds. I can't live that way. In ever decreasing circles. I need my life. So I push through it. I chose the things I'm not willing to give up and force myself to do them. To face the fear. To control it. Repeat the activity over and over again until it becomes routine and easy.

Its a battle I have to fight in waves. I have long periods when its really not an issue at all. Other times like now, where its almost a daily battle to work through. I'm pretty self aware. I know that its a symptom of stress caused by a combination of factors. But I'm unwilling or unable to give up those things that are causing the stress.