From my earliest memory, there was a thread of desperation running under everything, mixed with confusion and a steady fear of whatever might come out of the unknown. I hoped danger would overlook me, like my parents. My parents sent me into the world alone, again and again. I walked to kindergarten unaccompanied, thinking about what could go wrong, who might stop me, what I might be given to drink, or how a car might strike without warning. None of this seemed to trouble them. Later, on the tram to school, the metal edges and heavy wheels felt like another kind of threat. Once I passed the stop where I should have climbed down. My father had his job. My mother stayed home. She still did not care. I grew up feeling unguarded and exposed, always tense, always watching. It felt unfair. The strain stayed with me for years, as if I lived in the long shadow of something waiting to happen, and no one would notice when I was gone.
I see this desperation still going on in the background, but is transferred to the chronic tiredness associated with my MS and the anxiety that I developed around the idea of leaving the house alone. Is it the same one? Does my brain find use or explanation in my body to sustain the nagging feeling that clouds my mental state since time immemorial? Am I doing this to myself? Is my brain inventing reasons for me to keep feeling like that? If that is the case, I am commanding my brain to stop. Stop this nonsense. Why don’t you find me some reasons to NOT feel like that anymore? How about that? Why don’t you start right away, ok? Go do that.
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