I have a rather severe case of thanatophobia. I can slip into it fairly easily and self-induce a rather severe if extremely short (seconds) panic attack. It typically happens every time my idle thoughts turn to The Big Why. Why are we here? How did it all Start? How does it all End? But above all – why?
So far it hasn’t encroached into my everyday life nor given rise to other phobias. I’m not a shut-in, but you won’t find me jumping from perfectly good planes or visiting the Nopelia (Australia) Outback – where everything was evolved by nature to kill non-Aboriginals within sixty seconds – anytime soon. I prefer the calculated risk. The measured approach to adventure. Hike the Rockies? Absolutely. Base jump from a bridge? Hell no. But thanks, go right ahead.
I’ve been trying, over the last decade, to focus more on experience and a life well-lived – by my definition, not what Pop Culture or Madison Avenue wants you to believe it is. On connecting with others and shared experiences over being a lone wolf. In part that’s what’s driven my more recent extroversion. It’s safe to say my introversion is in remission but must be kept in check.
Now if only I could avoid the Big Why, I think I could go a while without a freak-out fit.
If you’ll excuse me, there’s a girly scream and flailing hands with my name on it.