Freak-Out to BlogHer '13 Day 11
Last Friday morning, while everyone else was still snoozing’ away, I climbed on-line and bought my train tickets to Chicago. It’s 100% official now that I really am going. Two weeks from today. Alone.
I pushed a little harder and have been working my way through the mountain of posts about the weekend’s events. I’ve even discovered that I can read through a panic attack. I may not retain any of it, but it’s still a nice focal point.
Tuesday I was invited to a Facebook group for folks attending the thing…and I joined in. Again, I’ve been slowly working my way through the fountain of info freely flowing through the multitude of posts. And all without anyone holding my hand.
The whole time I’ve been taking these baby-steps toward “Yay me!“ I’ve been simultaneously sinking into myself a little bit more with every passing day. I didn’t realize it at first. Then, when it struck me just how many anxiety dreams I’ve been having, the mounting number of panic attacks, and how little I’ve been smiling, I knew it was happening.
Yesterday I woke up in the beginning stages of a flare. Muscles that have been playing nice for a couple months have now managed to tie themselves into knots so intricate and tight that not even a Boy Scout would ever dreamed of trying to duplicate them! And the spasms have once more begun, leaving me jerking like a marionette manned by a short-circuiting robotic arm with no concept of proper human movement.
In short? I’m a mess.
A big, fat, spasming ball of mess.
But (because there’s ALWAYS a “but”) here’s the thing; I know I’m terrified of leaving my happy, comfy, SAFE nest to go into completely unknown territory. I know there are half a million things that could go wrong and half a million chances I could have the Mother of all panic attacks and totally lose my shit in front of hundreds of total strangers.
BUT, I also know there are half a million things that could go right, half a million moments that could turn into something like pure magic, and half a million things that’ll fall into the “once in a lifetime” category.
There will be hundreds of total strangers that will present the opportunity of new friendships and the chance to meet women in person whose writing and spirit I’ve admired from on-line-afar.
I know this panicky-terror that has sucked me into this dark room of emotions is only the top layer of the Feelings Barrel. Underneath the current slime lies a pool of serious excitement with the key to the locked door laying somewhere at the bottom of it all.
I WILL come out of this funky “darkness.” I WILL find my way around the fear so I can fully embrace the excitement of this adventure. I WILL manage to navigate the confusion of the trip there and back again because I fucking want to and this is my damn life so I can damn well do whatever the hell I want with it.
|There's ALWAYS light at the end|
of the tunnel...
And you know what I want? I WANT THIS! Because it truly IS an adventure and that is exactly what, in my oh-so humble opinion, life should be about.
So please pardon the momentary lack of our normally scheduled programming, but for far too many of us, this is also a part of life; the secret Dragons that rear their ugly-ass heads when we’re distracted and spit a little bum-burning fire at us.
Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, or maybe the day after I’ll pat out the flames, take a deep breath, and jump (OK, more than likely I’ll trip) back into the fight, temporarily tame and chain the dirty, rotten bugger, and find my way back onto my path.
And regardless of whichever path it ends up being, it’ll be an adventure. Because I WANT it to be!
For now? I just need to keep reminding myself that THAT’S the reality I choose and that there’s light on the other side of this midnight tunnel.