I don’t like surprises. Even good ones. Even very, very good ones leave me feeling like I’ve missed something, that there has been something going on that I’ve been unaware of, and it rattles me. It rattles me down to my core. It feels like being fooled. I don’t think I have ever liked surprises but that has only increased over the last decade.
During the last decade my unease around surprises has escalated into huge anxiety. Panic attack inducing anxiety. Head whirling anxiety. Thoughts and doubts and fears bombarding me. What is real? What is not real? The ground beneath my feet feels spongy. A psychic vertigo. That standing on the edge of the abyss feeling, when you’re not quite sure if you are going to fall or not.
I try to be mindful, to live in the moment, to focus on the present and, as a dear, dear friend once said ‘Go with the flow’. The past is gone and cannot be undone. The future is not yet here. All we really have is right here, right now. But still, it is hard work. To hold myself together. To not succumb. To not be torn asunder by memories and apprehension. To live and not just survive
I feel the opposing poles within me and I wonder how it is possible to be this happy and this terrified at the same time.