There’s the fear, and then there’s giving in to the fear.

And i am goddamned sick of doing the latter.

Because it’s optional. When anxiety really has made you its bitch, it doesn’t feel that way. You’ve become so accustomed to caving in at the slightest pressure that it feels like one automatically causes the other, like a reflex.

But ask yourself this : could you do it for a million bucks? Could you do it if the alternative is a slow horrible painful death?

What if it’s both? Do it and you get the million, fag out and you die? What then? Think you could hold it together then?

Yes? Well then it’s a choice then, innit?

It’s Therapy Thursday and when talking with Doctor Costin, I got to think about the big cold clammy hand of fear that keeps me living this stupid fucking life of mine.

You know, the fear that rises like a killing fog whenever I think of going outside this tiny little box in which I live. The fear that cuts off all life, motion, and energy, and makes me feel like I am going to die. The fear that has ruled my life for decades and kept me from getting anywhere in life or even growing up.

Ya know. That old thing.

Well I am truly fucking sick of it. That is not me. That is not the real me. The real me is strong and defiant and brave and doesn’t let anything slow him down or get in his way.

Not for long, anyhow.

So fucj this fear shit. I am going to tap into the vast energies I command and grow and grow until I am the size of Godzilla and stomp those puny little fears of mine to the ground in order to prove to the world that nobody can cage me.

Not even me.

The path forward requires not eliminating the fear but enduring it. Staring it right in the eye and saying “Yes I see you. Yes I feel you. Yes I know you are there and trying to stop me. But you’re not going to stop me. I’m doing what I want to do despite you. Go back to where you came from, demon. You have no power here. ”

And only then can you banish the fear and overcome it. Giving it what it wants only feeds it. So does hiding from the world to avoid it. The only way to kill a fear is to feel it fully but refuse to back down.

And that should be easy for me. I’m a naturally defiant person. I strongly resist any attempts to confine or control me.

Not that it’s come up much in my life. People have to care about you in order to put in the time and effort to repress you.

But still. If I continue to visualize my fear as an external force trying to trap me, I should be able to access all the raw id energy I need to overcome it.

I swear, I will free myself with the sheer power of my “fuck you” attitude.

More after the break.

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Islands of despair

Lately, I’ve been going through periods of profound sadness verging on despair.

Don’t worry, though, I am not in any danger because even when they are very intense, I retain the knowledge that this wave of existential agony will soon end on its own. It’s just something I have to endure for the time being then it will be over.

A bit like being someone who has fits, I suppose. Emotion fits.

They seem to happen most often when I am getting out of bed, either right before I hit the “sitting on the edge of the bed” phase or during it.

And while they don’t panic me or make me want to do anything drastic, I still wish I handled them a bit better.

Because I am always struggling to get through them and I think I would be better off just sitting with them and doing my best to experience them fully.

Emotions are information, after all, and part of me is clearly trying to tell me something. If I truly want this particular ghost to cease haunting me, I will need to listen.

Not easy. Ghosts are scary. Escape can be very habit-forming. And self-sustaining, too, because if you flee at the first sign of danger, you never find out if the danger was real.

And that’s no way to live – obviously. When even the most specious of illusions can chase you up a tree, your life is going to be very tiring indeed.

So step one, I suppose, is to hold out against the fear just a tiny bit longer. One extra second. That’s a very small and digestible goal that doesn’t ask too much and yet it is enough to demonstrate that I have some control over my responses.

I am way past being sick of being hounded by all this fucking fear. High time I turn around and kick those yapping hounds in the dick.

Or pussy. Must be inclusive.

But I think the real battle will happen on a layer way below my conscious mind. Something big is moving in me. The very ground I stand on is shifting. And I have no idea what my new configuration will look like.

I don’t really care. I am willing to try damned near anything that might help me escape this monk’s cell, this cloistered hell.

Right now, I am in a purge cycle. My mind is periodically heating up like a blast furnace in an attempt to cleanse my soul with fire and burn away all the toxic crap that has built upon my soul like layer of barnacles.

Burn, you little bastards. BURN.

The point of all that heavy metal fireworks is to break up the thick crust that encases me like a suit of armor. If I can do that, I can free myself from it and walk in the sun again.

For it is not me. Nor is it a part of me. It’s just something that happened to me.

And I can un-happen it too.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.