Claustrophobic

I am sharing a poem I wrote on April 5th, 2020 after about a month into the quarantine:

                       Claustrophobic

The darkening of the sky from day to night

The closing of my eyes, attempting to fall asleep

Crowds of people

In moving vehicles

Beneath a cluster of tall buildings

Bundled in winter clothes, socks, and boots

Enclosed in a room with closed doors and windows

Being held under water

Under a pillow and blankets

Unable to break free 

To be unhinged

To breathe

I cannot catch my breath

Suffocating in my thoughts

I can't breathe

Trying to catch my breath

I. Can't. Breathe!

Claustrophobia has been a problematic phobia for me as long as I can remember. My earliest memory of having a claustrophobic attack, if you will, was at about age five while playing in an airplane tunnel at Larsen Park in San Francisco. As I was crawling through the tunnel with others, some kids began blocking both ends not allowing us to escape. 

Over the years, I have suffered multiple attacks from being in crowded enclosed areas, in lines for rides, public transportation, elevators, and on and on. Each of the things mentioned in the poem have caused me to panic at one time or another. Out of embarrassment, I usually hide it from others around me, depending on the situation. To avoid putting myself in situations that might trigger these attacks has kept me from doing many things I enjoy. Fainting at the Fresh Fest concert when I was in Junior High School kept me from attending concerts, even the Prince Purple Rain Concert, can you believe that?! (Side note: I have been a Prince fan since the third grade). Traveling on planes, trains, or cruise ships, is always a struggle.

I have sought therapy multiple times over the years, but it never helped. Actually, I end up quitting once they start digging too deeply into my business. I know, isn't that their job? Well yes of course it is, only I choose to self-analyze and attempt at helping myself. Sure, my methods may not have proven to be very successful, but I'm okay. This is why I try to write, draw, read, or be creative in some way. Dance, music, and exercise have been extremely helpful for my mental health and sleep.

I better pull it back before I fall in too deep here. I decided to share this poem because the theme seems very fitting for events that have transpired since it was written. I know that I am not alone in these feelings of being held down and suffocating both literally and figuratively. 

When we are muted, ignored, disregarded, and shot down parts of us die. The fires within all of us from birth can either be ignited to increase our light and allow our fires to grow and continue spreading, or they are distinguished, sometimes slowly over time, but often, very suddenly. This is the root of my battle with claustrophobia. Childhood secrets, hidden abuse, lovelessness, abandonment, neglect, lacking affection, and shame.

I am still trying to find my voice while continuing on my journey of healing and hope. Perhaps we should all do the same.