The Eye of the Storm

In my childhood I was never afraid of the dark. I was never afraid of snakes, insects, or monsters under the bed. None of these things frightened me. I was a fool to consider myself brave for the second a clap of thunder pierced its way inside my ears and into my heart, I felt the icy hands of fear wrap around my mind leaving me in a state of terror.

At the time it wasn’t the storms themselves that frightened me but the anticipation they brought when their ominous clouds, black as night, rolled towards me. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t hide, I could only stand and watch them grow closer. This was not a great fear to have, given the fact that I lived, and still live in Florida, land of the afternoon thunder. I was told time and time again that such fears were “irrational,” that my panic attacks were ruining family outings when every time I was caught in a state of vulnerability watching a storm grow closer I would cry and scream begging us to go home, to safety, to stability.

As I grew older I gained an understanding for these fears, it wasn’t the storm that frightened me but the lack of control that came with feeling at the mercy of a being as powerful as nature. With age I’ve come to peace with this fear. I can understand it and grasp it knowing it wasn’t the storm itself that scared me, however, I still shiver upon seeing cumulus clouds remembering the fear it used to bring me. The fear of storms, nature’s power, has passed but I still fear the debilitating anxiety I felt in those young years and hope to never feel that way again, though that feeling is inevitable, it will always find a new form or way to catch up to you. It never goes away, only changes the way in which it will appear to you.