fear

I live on the brink of panic. I hate it. I do things to protect myself like not watch the news or stay away from certain forms of entertainment, but I have to live, I have to exist in this world and this world makes me panic. There are reasons for it. I’ve been mugged at gunpoint and because of it, I know what I’m made of. Years later I saw the man who was to become my husband get beat up after he helped a woman that was getting mugged because it appears that no good deed goes unpunished.

Even as I write this I feel my chest tighten with a surge of adrenaline spiked with fear; it creeps up from my chest to the back of my throat where I can taste it and it makes me choke.

Last night, I saw the news, not all of it, but something that isn’t even that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things, BUT now I feel afraid. I want to hide.

So what was the story that set me off? It’s embarrassing. In San Francisco people with iPhones are getting jacked for their phones. People on the street or public transit talking, texting, or doing whatever on their iPhones are having them stolen. I know this sounds like such an inconsequential thing, but I already have no sense of safety.

Today, I left the house and I just wanted to cry because now in addition to all my other fears I was afraid to use my friggin’ phone to call my husband or to take a picture of my daughter at the park.

I’m tired of being afraid. I feel like I’ve made so much progress, there was a time when I could not be outside without being terrified. I don’t feel that way anymore, but every once in awhile something triggers this terror that’s always underneath the surface, that has become so much a part of who I am that I don’t remember what it was like to be me without it; it’s like the Loch Ness monster of me.

I don’t want to be afraid to use my phone. I’m so angry that someone stole my sense of safety. I’m tired of telling myself to breath, I’m tired of looking for plans of escape. I just want to take my daughter to the park and take a picture of her with my damn phone and send it to my husband because I am so friggin’ proud that she is going down the big curly slide all by herself, but some stupid son of a b@tch infected me with this horrid sense of pending danger and then these other bastards come along and reinforce the fact that I am not ever safe!

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Have you ever wondered what you are made of? When you hear tales of people going through challenges, do you question their choices and imagine what you would do in the same situation?

Unfortunately, I know what I’m made of and even though the stuff I’m made of is courage and moxie, I still wish I’d never had to prove it.

You see, when I was in my 20′s I was mugged at gunpoint. I won’t go into the details because they are not pretty and they put the emphasis on my attacker and he does not deserve the attention, but I do want to share the very last part of the encounter.

After he had taken my belongings and gone through every pocket on my clothing, I thought it was over. But it wasn’t. He looked at me and said, “Now walk up the hill.” It’s one thing to take my stuff, but now he wanted to take my person!

I stood there looking at the ground and he lifted his gun and said, “I said walk up the hill!” I don’t know how to explain how I knew this, but I knew that if I went with him I was not going to make it out alive. I remember thinking, if the only choice I have left in life is where and when I die – then I choose here. I raised my head and looked him in the eyes and said quietly, but firmly, “I am not going with you.” Then I turned and walked into the street. I kept waiting for the gun to go off, to feel heat in my back. When I was in the middle of the street, I looked back and he was running up the hill.

This entire encounter took less than 5 minutes, but in those 5 minutes I learned more about myself than I ever knew. I learned that I am strong, that I have choices in any situation, that I am courageous, and that I have moxie to spare.

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