When did I begin to fear my world more than live in it? I don’t actually know for certain.
I just tried to take a walk outside, around the block in my quiet little town.
The further I got from home, the tighter my skin and muscles felt, the harder it was to keep my breathing slow. We made it down our street to the main street and I jumped with every passing car as if it were gunshots. The wind in the trees sounded ominous even though it was actually a quiet breeze.
Everything in me wanted to go home. I could hear, see, feel, smell everything a million times too strong. Hypervigilance.
I was wishing hubby would make some conversation to distract me. I was struggling to keep myself grounded.
Then a dog jumped and barked. I screamed. A bloody murder scream. All the tension in me rose up and turned into full panic. I was done. I froze in my tracks. I needed to go home.
Hubby was actually clueless somehow, said something about how peaceful the evening was and he was enjoying the walk. I could barely talk, but said my anxiety was at an 8. Hubby said ohh, wow, he didn’t know, sorry we could be so different.
Again I was wishing hubby would help me. Help me focus, ground, breathe. We walked back home in silence and he says he needs a bath. Which means I’m left to recover alone. And get the kids in bed myself. I was tired from the panic, but also feeling foolish. I did not know I was so afraid to simply go outside. I was fine shopping and at the doctors, so I didn’t know I was afraid to walk on my sidewalk.
I will add this to my list for individual therapy goals, as well as discuss it during couples counseling tomorrow.