I don’t want to call it “Panic” per se. Maybe more than basic fear but less than terror.
Basic fear? Is that a thing?
I woke up this morning and made my coffee (french presser for life), went to the gym and walked home in the cold. As I washed the sweat from my face I suddenly felt the intense urge to cry my eyes out. Of course, I did what anyone would do. I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and said “Pull yourself together lady!”. Then I was upset that I called myself lady because it made me feel old like when the clerk at the store calls me Ma’am.
So, back to the panic.
I started doing more of the cleaning and little packing things one does when moving to a third world country. All the while I couldn’t actually breathe.
It began to snow slushies outside. I went to the store for supplies and also to be around humans so I was forced to act normal. No crying in public. It’s a rule for me.
Back at the apartment I was still counting the hours left before driving away from Missoula followed by counting the days left on American soil. Not many days left. Before I was scared shitless, I was overflowing with excitement about fulfilling my dreams. Now my dreams started looking like nightmares because what if? WHAT IF???
What if? Surely you have felt the dreaded What If Disease before. It’s brutal.
I know that what I seek is on the other side of fear. I know it. I know that if I’m not afraid I’m not really living. It’s the part where I have to feel the fears turned up to eleven that kills.
I’m doing it. Friends, I am doing it. I’m feeling the fear and I’m not turning back.
Today I win.