So I am going to Florida in 6 days, and I am Uber excited about that! However, I’ve developed a kind of fear of flying. For some strange reason all I can think about is how many ways I can die on a plane for the entire ride, kinda morbid I know, but it’s involuntary.
Try having those kinds of thoughts while holding your sisters kids in your lap, trying so hard not to show the fear on your face… Laughing and playing with them when all you can think is that the plane is gonna crash before it even reaches 20 thousand feet. What the fuck is wrong with me man?
It’s not even just flying though, it’s everything… everyday. I fear death. Since I was 13 years old, I’ve had these thoughts… these fears. Sometimes they’d get so bad I’d have panic attacks, though I didn’t know that’s what it was back then. I’d tell myself that it’s an irrational fear, that I shouldn’t be so scared like this… but really, how can it be irrational if we all die?
What the hell am I supposed to do, seriously? I am normally very good at hiding it, but when the panic comes, it comes. My whole body gets hot, my heart starts racing even faster than my mind, and all I can say (if I can say anything at all) is “Oh my god, Oh my god, Oh my GOD!” and when someone else is there all I can say is “Oh my god, I’m so sorry”. Thank goodness most of my panic attacks are when im alone at night. Which is why my sleeping habits royally suck. If I lay down and actually TRY to sleep, I will panic because my mind doesn’t just shut down, it keeps going even when my eyes are closed. So I stay up till my body can’t take it anymore and I just pass out.
This shit is affecting my daily life. I rarely go out, I barely have any new friends, and all the old friends I have live hundreds of miles away and I only see them on facebook or skype. Not that I’d hang out with them anyway, because I don’t want anyone to see me like this. I’m even scared that I’ll freak people out if I tell them about it.
Pretty sure I need to see a therapist… or a psychiatrist, or was it a psychologist? Shit, I don’t know! Even a fucking hypnotist would help at this point. I just don’t want to worry about it anymore. I don’t want to worry that I’m going to get hit by a car or a bus everytime I cross the street. I don’t want to worry that I’m going to be accidentally shot at when I turn a dark corner in my neighborhood after dark. And I certainly don’t want to think of what I’ll do if anything happens to my family. I’m just going to completly lose it when my mom dies, I can’t even think about it.
I wish I could afford therapy, but considering all of the things that are actually wrong with me, they might lock my ass up. I think I should change my name on this blog, because suddenly I feel that all this honestly might just leave me forever alone…