I
went on vacation with my ex to Niagara Falls. We stayed on the
Canadian side. I remember wanting so much to go up in the Skylon tower
that speeds up in a glass elevator to a dizzying 775 feet above the
ground with an amazing view of the falls and the city. I wanted to go
so badly and yet I have this crippling fear of heights. There is a
terror that begins in my stomach, a churning panic that makes its way to
my head where I become panic-stricken and just know someone will push
me over the edge of anything high and I will fall to my death. I will
never allow people to touch me when I'm up high.
I
didn't want to have to leave a tourist town wishing I could have seen
something that was blocked by my fear. Keeping my back firmly against
the center, I moved counterclockwise sliding my feet sideways and
circled the tower platform. Now, mind you, three people could have
walked side-by-side between me and that barrier fence without touching
the fence but to me, it was as if I was dangling over the edge. My
mind kept fearing that the wind would gust and I just knew one would
blow me over the edge and it would be instant death. I kept moving,
sliding my feet side-to-side, back pressed against the wall, wind
whipping in my hair as I slowly moved all around the tower. Once I
realized how far I was from the exit door, panic mounted as there was no
way to avoid it now. I had to keep moving. I was at the half way mark
and I had to finish. I felt my knees shaking, my mouth was dry, and I
was crying. I was not going to let it beat me. It took everything I
had to keep sliding my feet sideways keeping my back against the wall,
moving around that tower's observation deck. I was about 3/4 of the way
around and my husband found me. He walked up to me like it was no big
deal and said, "Oh there you are." I snapped back, "Don't you touch
me! I'll fall. I am going to make it all the way around this." He was
stunned and quietly moved beside me, a little in front to reach the
door first. I did see some scenery and the falls were amazing but my
fear clouded my sense of wonder. My fear often distorts and impairs my
enjoyment. I was facing outward but my mind was racing and my heart was
galloping like a horse. I kept feeling forward with my left hand
against that cement wall, waiting to feel the door. Waiting to get off
that platform. Each step was a little big closer to achieving my goal.
I could only stay focused on making it to the door where we came out
onto the platform and to keep moving and not stop. My husband, very
concerned for me at this point, continued to walk alongside me,
encouraging me and telling me I would be OK. Two other people came up
and asked me if I was all right; after all, I was pressed against the
back wall, sliding my feet sideways, crying, and I'm sure I looked
pretty scared. I was crazy beyond scared. My mouth was dry and I
could barely swallow. I told them I was fine. Finally I felt the door
and knew I wasn't going to die. My husband opened the door so when I
got to it I could slide inside where I would be safe. It was the
hardest thing I had ever done in my memory. I was shaking and only
wanted to get to the ground so we left. I almost sank to the floor and
we found a bench to sit on and I got my shaking under control before we
had to ride the dreaded elevator all the way to the ground. I wish I
could say it worked to cure my fear of heights but it didn't. I am
still very afraid of heights. I can at least be proud I faced my fear,
no matter how crazy I looked and congratulate myself on my courage and
determination. Sadly when I look back, I never asked my husband for
help, never told him of my plan, and never asked for his support. He
was very concerned that the heights affected me so dramatically.
Fast
forward to now. I suffer with crippling anxiety going to church. I
think it started when I quit smoking. Smoking medicated a ton of
anxiety for me. I had no idea until I quit. My terror of going to
church is pretty severe. There is no doubt the Skylon is a 10 on my
terror rating scale. Church is about 8.5. My knees and hands shake, my
mouth gets dry, the panic is sharp and escalates like that elevator to
heights that activate my fight or flight responses. I can enjoy some of
what I see but there is no relaxing or feeling peace or part of
anything. It's too intense.
I
hear over and over words that bring comfort, love, and peace to so
many, "We are all a family" and my insides quake and I want to run and
hide under my bed with my rag doll. I have come to learn that the word
"family" terrifies me. I wish there was another way to identify a
close-knit group of people but family is the word that makes me freak
out in terror. At the same time I desperately want to be part of a
loving family. So I am a ball of conflict; fighting to get it away from
me, and trying to cling to it to receive what I never got as a kid. My
views have been all over the board on being part of a church family. I
thought that it was best to push that away, to stomp off, to stop
trying to go to church and dump the whole thing; God, Church, and that
horrible idea of family that reminds me of physical, emotional, and
mental agony. "Family" is the reason I'm so broken, so frightened, and
so scared. "Mother" and "Father" are only words that hurt and represent
authority figures who violate you and your trust. They are people who
never wanted you, never cared, and never will. They are people who
break promises, who mock and laugh at you, and people who are glad when
you're gone. Sadly I've had some horrible experiences in the church
that were perfect confirmations of my beliefs that "family" only hurts.
I have also had lovely experiences that seem to conveniently fly out of
my memory. When I'm alone and thinking, I recall them and the beauty
of the people who reached out even if I looked like a terrified, angry
animal at times.
I
walked away from the church (again) and sadly I don't think anyone
noticed I was gone. I really did try a few times to meet people but my
fear, and their inability to understand why I am the way I am only
served to push me further and further toward that edge where I will fall
into nothingness and die. I would reach out with my back against that
concrete wall but if you touch me I will freak because I am trying to
stay alive spiritually and I need to find the door. I try to keep
moving but it takes all I have to just be there, so how do I make
friends? How do become part of a family? I suffer with bipolar
disorder, OCD, and PTSD which causes anxiety attacks (flashbacks) and
makes it hard for me to think clearly.
It
is only after I push everything away I realize that I want to be a part
of a group that wants me and loves me. I want to be accepted. I
realize I have been too afraid of asking for help, too afraid of asking
for support and being willing to let others know of my disabilities. My
back-to-the-wall fear blocks my feeling accepted. I don't want you to
know I'm anxious so I try to look like I couldn't care less and then
when no one chisels their way through my "I dare you" expression I feel
slighted and run away like a wounded animal. I am not beating up on
myself or saying everything that happened is my fault, but I have
realized if this is what I really want I need to ask for help on how to
be a part of a group. I really don't know how to do it. I only know
how to cling to the wall and feel my way around and then leave and do
that again next week.
I
always thought you were totally honest with people and maybe that's not
the best starting point. I am so afraid and confused I'm not sure what
is the best way to approach the dreaded "family" word and how I can
reclaim it for something loving and positive. I write this so that
people will know that not all disabilities are things you can see and
understand just by looking at someone. Sometimes they are much deeper,
or even more subtle that you realize. I am so busy being terrified of
you I don't know how to show you the neat things about me, and I can't
see what's really amazing about you.
I
need to be more patient and loving with myself, to ask for help in this
spiritual quicksand, and slide my way around with my back to the wall
and go after the goal that scares me the most. What is that goal? To
step away from the wall, to stop reacting all over the place and to take
the first step forward. It's important to be part of a family. I want
to be wanted. I want what everyone else wants; love, acceptance, and I
want to know that I can step away from the wall and let others walk
with me. If we are all meant to be in God's family then there is a
reason I am suffering with all these miserable disorders and I just
might be needed somehow, in some way, for some reason, by the church.
Am I irreplaceable? I know you are but why don't I see myself that
way? I need the church to reflect back to me the way I really am and
not look at myself in the distorted mirror I have been using too long.
Mental
illness has taken so much from me. It's shattered relationships,
marred my perceptions, and filled me with self-hatred. It's convinced
me that my illness proves I'm useless, messed up, no good, and
imperfect. I don't understand why I have decided that being mentally
ill is a moral failing but I seem to have believed that more and more.
My "family" taught me that being perfect was the only acceptable way to
be so I try and when I fail I get mad. I'm like the child playing the
board game who gets angry and messes up the board and runs off every
time they lose. I really want to enjoy being in church but I won't let
myself and I can't begin to love myself and love others if I don't learn
how to face the fear, take a step away from the wall, and reach out to
others. I need to talk about it when appropriate (and shut my beak when
it's not) and ask for the right kind of support. I get angry when no
one helps me but I push them away when they try.
I
don't like the alternative; growing old alone, bitter, disillusioned,
and depressed. I reach out and sometimes it fails, but chucking God,
the church, and everything connected with it seems to be drastic. I'm
just not sure how to believe or what to do. I want to go to confession
but I have this feeling that I need to take a deep breath and then
decide who to talk to, and where to go. I am learning not to let my
feelings take over and make impulsive decisions for me.
I
am ready to slide my back along the wall so that, even in my terror, I
can see there is beauty out there and I can feel good about myself. I
can face the fear and do what scares me the most try to become part of a
family. I want a real family that wants me around and accepts me. I
want people who accept me for what I can do, not whisper and avoid me
over the things I cannot do. It's worth a shot. I'm at rock bottom
right now. At least it's solid ground and it's not high up in the air.
I can do it. I need to do it. I want to do it....for me and for the
church, who doesn't even know they might need me. That's OK, I'm
struggling with believing that too. :)
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