The things that haunt me aren’t dotted with red noses or lurk under my bed anymore.
They’re mostly in my head. I’ve come face-to-face with most of my demons and we’ve struck a deal that allows for functional co-existence. Most days, they take a form akin to a slightly spicier Casper the Ghost. But, after a few days of crippling back pain this week, they sensed an opportunity and broke our truce.
As I hobbled to bed and tucked myself in, I quickly found myself in the grips of the worst panic attack of my life. Casper was pissed off, ready to rage and had the audacity to invite new friends without running it by me.
The thoughts came faster than logic could prevail.
You’re alone. If you just took better care of your body you wouldn’t be in this situation. There is something seriously wrong with you right now. Your body is going to fail, just the way it failed your parents–sooner rather than later.
The mental chatter stung, but the physical sensations crippled.
Nausea. Racing heart. Cold sweats. Parts of my body feeling seconds away from imploding.
Then came the flashbacks.
Standing in the hallway. Hearing my mom’s wails. Turning to the EMT for reassurance I was making the right decision. Watching my mom wheeled out of the house against her will as grief and ALS ravaged her body and soul. Seeing the ambulance drive away. Standing alone, wondering now what.
Minutes felt like hours; I was somewhere lost in space in time.
Make the exhale longer than your inhale Maggie. Give it a few minutes.
I coached myself, hand gripped around my phone, moments away from calling for help.
With the recognition that I was occupying two spaces, the past and the present, the edges started to soften.
Casper and his crew started to look more like a biker gang and less like the grim reaper. Once the demons took the form of a bunch of insecure teenagers stomping beer cans in the parking lot, I drifted off to sleep.
A few days later, and reminding my unruly friends of our truce, I've managed to stabilize. However, following their recent disturbance, I know I need to spend some intentional time with my demons. It seems counterintuitive to go toward the things that bring us crippling fear and pain, but I know it’s the only way to keep good on my end of our agreement. I'm uncertain of the form this will take, whether it means writing more, a little therapy, or embarking on long meandering walks. Nonetheless, I'll do what it takes because even the darkest parts of us deserve to be seen and will clamor until they are.
Find your village at Knomii. Life’s too often an “or” not an “and.” Expand your perspectives and embrace your curiosity. I’ll see you there.