Do any of you have anxiety? Not that that’s incredibly important, but for me, I feel my anxiety plays a huge role in every single thing that I get to experience in my life. My emotions are exhausted after a panic spell.
I have this Fear. And, I don’t know what it is, or why its here, but its sitting under my lungs. Like, an inch under my ribs. It’s there because it doesn’t want to be caged. It wants to be felt.
This Fear is black. Thick like tar and slow like summer wind. It’s heavy. I feel it pushing down through my hips all the way to my broken toes. It spreads. I’m fine with the Fear in my knees or my heel, but I’m terrified for when it fills my basin and has nowhere left to go but up.
Anxiety makes my heart feel Fear almost hourly. It’s not total defeat.
Let the black resin fill my shoulders full. It shows through the freckles on my back. It will feel like a pulled muscle that I can’t figure out how to stretch. Trainers and coaches and teammates show me what to do, but when I mime them, nothing changes. Sore, swollen muscle.
Fear gargles up my esophagus. It’s bitter, like coffee grounds and orange juice. It’s warm and ready to take center stage.
As Fear rises, moving upward like a mercury thermometer, I am still. Aware. The second the black hits my brain, my precious, soft, pink brain, I’m gone.
And just like a bath bomb, my brain is erupting.
Fear is released. I am snarling and showing my fangs. My collar bones ache and I can feel the tendons in my neck about to snap.
I want to scream, but Fear is in my diaphragm. I am silent. I am still.
I gulp and I gulp and I try to find oxygen.
Instead, my head finds the floor with a bang.
And I’m out.