pinkharmony
07-23-2007, 03:58 PM
Since the age of 5, I’ve been plagued by all sorts of fears. My mother often tells of the time I was in kindergarten; she was watching me on the playground from her office window (she was the elementary school secretary). I climbed up the steps of the largest slide on the playground, which consisted of around 30 steps and was 20 feet high in the air. When I sat down at the top of the slide, I panicked, stood up, and climbed backwards down the slide’s ladder. To the ordinary mind, my climbing back down made little sense as it took me nearly 5 minutes to do so, whereas going down the slide would have taken not even 5 seconds. But, to me, the slide was so huge, so encompassing, that if I went down it, I would surely fall off to my untimely death.
When I was six, I was on an escalator with my father, and when we were at the top about to step off, my shoelace got hung momentarily, causing me to almost fall. I’ve never been back on one since, and just going near one makes my head spin and fainting does not feel too far away.
Throughout my elementary years, I was often afraid of falling down stairs or bleachers in the gym and go down them one leg at a time, using my right one as the dominant leg. I remember being on the playground one day and tripped over a stump, right on to my face. Everyone laughed at me, even though I was bleeding.
Throughout the rest of my life up until this point, I was the product of a loving family, brought up by Christian parents, made the best grades, had the best of everything I thought.
When I went to college, something happened; I was all alone in the world. I went to class most days. Rainy days were challenging for me, but even I could get up and go on some of those. My priorities changed as I wanted to feel loved and appreciated. I started dating random guys (one was extremely abusive, mainly mentally) and losing any morality I once had. Depression crept in as my grades (for the first time in my life) started becoming D’s and F’s and nothing was fulfilling to me anymore. I had no friends; I remained a recluse in my dorm room. I took a creative writing class and began writing poetry which, now looking back, made me realize a lot about myself.
That summer, I moved back home. I met a guy that, at first, I didn’t think anything would happen with. He was home from the military on leave, and we hit it off from the beginning. He was exactly what I needed and even wanted. He loved me from the minute he saw me, he says, and still to this day gives me that love unconditionally. We married a year and three months later, three months after he was done with the military. We began a happy marriage and still to this day have a wonderful one. My grades started improving and my husband became the center of all things me.
Sounds like the ideal life huh? I began having “my problem” six months into our marriage. I remember one day hearing a girl fall down many steps outside one of my classes. People in my class laughed so loud at her, and she was humiliated. I never went on those stairs again, even though it wasn’t me who fell. A part of me died that day. I began retreating back to going down the steps one leg at a time, as I did when I was a child. I started my first real taste of a “real job” that summer, and almost slipped one day. I took off my shoes and kept walking. That felt safe for me for some reason.
Soon, I couldn’t go anywhere with shoes on. My last semester of college began and I was barely functioning to get to class. As long as I had carpet beneath my feet, I was alright. Pretty soon, my husband would help me when he was not working, and I began depending on him for grocery shopping (the floors were too slick), helping me into church (people might see me having a problem out in the parking lot and think I didn’t have the God-given power I’d heard so much about all my life). I used to love to shop for the latest clothes, but I haven’t been in a mall in over seven months.
I graduated two months ago. I actually walked across the carpeted stage with shoes on, but went barefoot through the procession. I’ve started a new job now where I park right outside the door. I love what I do. However, I can’t shake that I feel so helpless. I go from work to home. I feel empowered in my car. Nowadays, I go to church twice a week and occasionally go see my parents, but even that is hard for me. I’m so paralyzed by falling. My environment spins, I can't control my breathing, I sweat, I nearly faint. I feel like I'm dying.
My sister wants me to visit her in Alabama this weekend, but I contemplate going for fear of falling and not being where I can get help and feel comfortable. I am somewhat overweight, and am very hard on myself for it.
Today, nearly 20 years later, I feel once again plagued by fear that grips me. After doing months of research and dealing with a problem that I once thought was physical, I now have discovered I am not alone in what I deal with and that there IS a name for it.
I haven’t started any type of therapy. The doctor who came to college once a week prescribed me Zoloft back in February, but not wanting to be on medication, I soon quit that. I feel like such a prisoner, and even though my husband loves me and helps me walk places, I wonder how long he can deal with me being such a “whiny baby”, and I DO want to be able to do it on my own again.
I would appreciate any advice or support, and if you've read this whole post, I'm grateful for your time.
* Wanting to walk again in Tennessee * :unsure:
When I was six, I was on an escalator with my father, and when we were at the top about to step off, my shoelace got hung momentarily, causing me to almost fall. I’ve never been back on one since, and just going near one makes my head spin and fainting does not feel too far away.
Throughout my elementary years, I was often afraid of falling down stairs or bleachers in the gym and go down them one leg at a time, using my right one as the dominant leg. I remember being on the playground one day and tripped over a stump, right on to my face. Everyone laughed at me, even though I was bleeding.
Throughout the rest of my life up until this point, I was the product of a loving family, brought up by Christian parents, made the best grades, had the best of everything I thought.
When I went to college, something happened; I was all alone in the world. I went to class most days. Rainy days were challenging for me, but even I could get up and go on some of those. My priorities changed as I wanted to feel loved and appreciated. I started dating random guys (one was extremely abusive, mainly mentally) and losing any morality I once had. Depression crept in as my grades (for the first time in my life) started becoming D’s and F’s and nothing was fulfilling to me anymore. I had no friends; I remained a recluse in my dorm room. I took a creative writing class and began writing poetry which, now looking back, made me realize a lot about myself.
That summer, I moved back home. I met a guy that, at first, I didn’t think anything would happen with. He was home from the military on leave, and we hit it off from the beginning. He was exactly what I needed and even wanted. He loved me from the minute he saw me, he says, and still to this day gives me that love unconditionally. We married a year and three months later, three months after he was done with the military. We began a happy marriage and still to this day have a wonderful one. My grades started improving and my husband became the center of all things me.
Sounds like the ideal life huh? I began having “my problem” six months into our marriage. I remember one day hearing a girl fall down many steps outside one of my classes. People in my class laughed so loud at her, and she was humiliated. I never went on those stairs again, even though it wasn’t me who fell. A part of me died that day. I began retreating back to going down the steps one leg at a time, as I did when I was a child. I started my first real taste of a “real job” that summer, and almost slipped one day. I took off my shoes and kept walking. That felt safe for me for some reason.
Soon, I couldn’t go anywhere with shoes on. My last semester of college began and I was barely functioning to get to class. As long as I had carpet beneath my feet, I was alright. Pretty soon, my husband would help me when he was not working, and I began depending on him for grocery shopping (the floors were too slick), helping me into church (people might see me having a problem out in the parking lot and think I didn’t have the God-given power I’d heard so much about all my life). I used to love to shop for the latest clothes, but I haven’t been in a mall in over seven months.
I graduated two months ago. I actually walked across the carpeted stage with shoes on, but went barefoot through the procession. I’ve started a new job now where I park right outside the door. I love what I do. However, I can’t shake that I feel so helpless. I go from work to home. I feel empowered in my car. Nowadays, I go to church twice a week and occasionally go see my parents, but even that is hard for me. I’m so paralyzed by falling. My environment spins, I can't control my breathing, I sweat, I nearly faint. I feel like I'm dying.
My sister wants me to visit her in Alabama this weekend, but I contemplate going for fear of falling and not being where I can get help and feel comfortable. I am somewhat overweight, and am very hard on myself for it.
Today, nearly 20 years later, I feel once again plagued by fear that grips me. After doing months of research and dealing with a problem that I once thought was physical, I now have discovered I am not alone in what I deal with and that there IS a name for it.
I haven’t started any type of therapy. The doctor who came to college once a week prescribed me Zoloft back in February, but not wanting to be on medication, I soon quit that. I feel like such a prisoner, and even though my husband loves me and helps me walk places, I wonder how long he can deal with me being such a “whiny baby”, and I DO want to be able to do it on my own again.
I would appreciate any advice or support, and if you've read this whole post, I'm grateful for your time.
* Wanting to walk again in Tennessee * :unsure: