You're Still With Me
For a long time now, when I’m alone, a nagging dull fear wells up inside my body taking up residence and precious space.
My anxiety sores, my heart starts to feel like it could beat right out of my chest, tightening my throat, constricting my mind, antagonizing me to react. Tears well up while I fight to hold them back. The tingle from swallowing anxious tears vibrates through my face, my shoulders and the rest of my body. I become cold, aware that I’m not comfortable. My hands start to shake. My breathing picks up even more, shaking as well. My vision is tunneled. I’m now in fight or flight mode — constantly. On guard, on edge, on defense.
I’m scared. Of what? I don’t exactly know. A season of immense change has taken place and the transition between chapters has left my mind and my emotions murky; unable to see anything with clarity.
The fear surrounds me, penetrating me in a way that feels invasive and violating; muddying the waters I’ve been wading through, fishing out lessons & trying to hold on to them for dear life. For security and safety come with experience, wisdom, confidence to persevere. I have these, I do. Having been through so much & grown up so quickly...
I’ve been watching out for myself, by myself, for a very long time. Yet with all the lessons I’ve acquired I feel as though I’ve become more scared than I logically should be. I know what’s out there. I know where I’ve been and that anything can happen no matter how prepared, and this keeps me prepared to respond to whatever situation arises. Yet I never relax, I’m not safe enough to do so. BECAUSE of where I’ve been and what I’ve been through. I am alone. Surrounded by people...but facing life alone.
So “What is this knot in my body that is feeding off my energy, due to”? I sit and ask myself again and again. Going inwards amplifies this fear but I cannot understand and correct it without first facing the root.
Insignificant. Forgettable. Vast Loneliness. Unprotected. All emotionally haunting me with memories I try to block out. These are the words I believe I can begin to use to describe the unsettling feeling following me around these days. You're still with me.