Been Dying Since I Was Born

I really don't recall a time when I wasn't going to die. It has taken 7 years of mind-body therapy to try to put some of the pieces together and figure out why. Most of it goes back to my grandmother, God Bless her, who with my grandfather adopted my brother and I. I've come to realize that she instilled fear in me. I doubt she did it out of any maliciousness. She may have instilled her own fears onto me. Fear of just about everything. Yet, oddly enough I remember being a big dare-devil growing up.

Looking back I imagine all that nerves of steel was underlying combative issues. Tell me not to do something and I would be sure as hell to do it. Prime examples:

1. "Don't swim out into the rice paddies. The weeds will tangle your feet and you'll drown." So out I went but with the safety net of an inner tube. Soon as I felt the weeds circling my feet and legs I was full of anxiety and clung to the inner tube for dear life, but by God I went there!!!

2. "Stay away from the south end of the lake, there's quicksand that will swallow you up." And away I went as soon as her back was turned, stepping through the brush with small branches lashing at my face testing each step lightly the closer to the lakes edge I got. Mind you I was only about 8 years old but I defied parental law even that young. How silly to say one would sink! Then suddenly, both feet sank and slowly kept sinking deeper until I worried that I would be swallowed up by the muddy murky waters underground. No sense to yell for Mom. The house was too far away. The lake was a resort lake...and it wasn't the weekend when city folks were in their cabins. It was just me and quicksand and death staring into my bugged blue eyes. I grasped at mere twigs that weren't strong enough to use as a pulley...struggling to bend while my knees were now immersed to get to a studier branch. But I did.

3. Then there's the time we were camping at Devil's Tower Wyoming and for a real treat my Dad took us to dinner (rather then BBQ at the campground) to a restaurant just before the entrance into the park. We ordered pork chops and it came with fresh ground horseradish. My Dad took one bite and his eyes watered while he looked across the table at my plate and while shaking his fork at my container of the stuff he demanded "Don't touch that!  It's hot!" Well while he wasn't looking not only did I decide to sneak a taste of mine, but I scooped up a full fork full and shoved it in my mouth. Needless to say I couldn't breathe. No, I mean I literally couldn't breathe. I was dying for sure. That's probably when I gained the fear of swallowing for the rest of my life...not even a pill--I am sure I am going to get it stuck in my throat and choke to death. I'm going to DIE!!!

4. I grew up in the country near farm land with large woods everywhere. I was an adventurer and really didn't have anyone to play with (only an older brother) so I traveled those woods alone. My Grandmom knew and but of course would tell me not to venture too deep in the woods as people had gotten lost and never seen again. More fear instilled but not enough to stop me. I'd ride my bike along two lane paved country roads to another lake and turn off on to dirt roads and ride back around it in it's deeper silence. No people. No traffic as it was before weekender's had traveled to their cabins for their getaway. I'd explore the lake, look at the different cabins and water toys sitting in their yards and then head on home......on a desolate dirt road far from the main road, where if I got attached by a bear or a bob cat no one would have been near enough around to see or help me. And that's when the fear would kick in. My pedaling gained speed as I visualized a bear coming out of the woods behind me or a bobcat as big in my childlike mind as a cougar racing after me for their evening meal. I would become increasingly afraid with my adrenals out of control unable to even look back to ease my mind. I was going to die right there killed by a wild animal. Dead!