“With realization of one’s own potential and self-confidence in one’s ability, one can build a better world” - Dalai Lama
Sometime around 1997 I began to develop panic attacks that at times were so crippling it ended up in my being hospitalized. I reached a point in my life where I was even afraid to go to sleep because I just knew I would never wake up again. During the most acute stages of my Anxiety Disorder, I began to develop some strange fears. I now feared flying, riding in elevators, on amusement park rides and going on long distance drives.
It was very difficult to explain to friends and family why I held these fears. Their first thoughts were I had a fear of heights, or claustrophobia, when that was really not the case at all. I used to love flying and riding amusement park rides, I spent my High School years working at Six Flags Over Texas and had ridden every single ride there on multiple occasions and loved it. My real fear was finding myself stuck somewhere, where emergency personnel, or “help” could not reach me. For example when it came to elevators, the thought pattern would go something like this: The elevator would get stuck, I would begin to panic and get myself all worked up to the point that I would literally give myself a heart attack. Another irrational thought I would have is I would be on the road traveling, and somewhere in between major cities I would find myself in a desolate area. I would then begin to have a heart attack and would die before emergency personnel could get to me.
While these are irrational thoughts my body reacted to them always as if what were happening were very real, and because no one could explain to me what was going on initially, it made these panic attacks happen more frequently, with much more severity. The reason is I felt I couldn’t even trust the medical establishment to figure out what was wrong with me, and I would die before they could.
Where did this all come from? That’s the whole point of my post today. Let me first start off by stating that I firmly believe that the past is exactly that, the past. At some point in time you just have to get over whatever, or whoever harmed you, and quit allowing those events to hinder your present day life experiences. I am not saying never to acknowledge these things. But there are people who spend their lives going from therapist to therapist, from support group to support group, telling the same old story of victimization, their mind and bodies reliving those experiences over and over. Do not get me wrong, I fully support therapy and I know people truly need help, but if you choose not to move on from veing a victim, and choose to live in the past then that is where you will live, never fully growing beyond those experiences.
While meditating, I set forth an intention to find out what some of my limiting beliefs were, and why I still quietly held onto some of these fears of riding in elevators, getting on roller coasters, and flying in planes. I did this not because I wanted to continue to be a victim, but because I wanted to find the root, cut it out and take even more control over my life and destiny.
A few weeks went by when it hit me, I now knew where this fear came from, and it came from a very early childhood experience that I had completely forgotten about. For some reason this memory just popped back into my head, and as I write this post another memory came back that explains yet another part of my fears.
When I was about four years old, maybe younger, our family was over at my uncle’s house celebrating Easter. I had to go to the bathroom, after I finished it was then that I realised I had locked the door but could not figure out how to open it. I was old enough to go to the bathroom by myself, but still young enough to be confused by a lock on a bathroom door. There was a window that looked out onto the backyard and I climbed up onto the toilet to look out. I could see everyone having fun getting ready for lunch. I began to yell but no one could hear me, I couldn’t even figure out how to open the window. I don’t remember how long it was before somebody finally heard me or saw me at the window, but I remember it felt like an eternity. However my dilemma was not quite over. People began to yell instructions at me through the closed window and I made every attempt to open the door but had no success. They finally decided to push one of my smaller cousins who lived there through the window, which was a drama in and of itself, because as I stated earlier, I didn’t know how to open the window, I stuck and horrified that I would never get out. Eventually we got the window opened, my cousin climbed through and I was let out of the bathroom, but this little event had an impact on me deep within my psyche that would not manifest itself for many years to come.
The second event which I just recalled as I was writing this was when a good friend of my father’s Dr. Brunjes, who was also my chiropractor died on the side of the road between towns when his car broke down. This was before cell phones, and he sent his wife off with a stranger to go get help in the next town. His wife surmised that when she did not return immediately, he began to worry so much he caused himself to have a heart attack. Whether or not that is possible, I don’t know, all I know it is one of the many fears that I have carried with me for so long.
What’s my point? Recognizing that I have limiting beliefs has allowed me to get control over them, knowing now where they originated from, helps me to understand how the seed got planted, and how unknowingly I allowed it to grow for so long, watering it with my fears and doubts. In days since this memory was uncovered, I have had to ride a few elevators, and the amazing thing is when the doors closed, there was no racing heart, no tensing of the muscles, no shallow breathing, no racing thoughts on how to extricate myself out of this situation if I had to. This is why I am grateful for realization, realization for where these fears originated from, and realization that I ultimately control my thoughts and beliefs.
