A bit of Panaphobia

Like so many others here, there and everywhere, the innate ability to share my personal life is not one of my best traits. I will circumvent the topic and settle on writing a story completely in abstract. Life is made up of choices, we wade into the fray each in our own way.

I have been pondering and reaching back over the years, the moments are like flashbacks from some beautiful, yet complicated cinematic movie scenes. Interspersed between these scenes on the one hand, are celebrated highs with fireworks shooting high into the sky. Juxtaposed on the other hand, are those painful memories which fight extremely hard to eclipse the happy and wonderful. I realize that I need to find a central focal point, a common ground where the two will eclipse each other and engender peace between the two factions fighting for first place in my existence.

They swirl around me, tormenting me, taunting me. The ghosts and skeletons of my past and present, the good, the bad and the not so great memories.

Each memory and every personal story render an opinion on whom should be the lucky or unlucky choice for the worthy mention.

Which one of you qualifies as my "aha" moment? I ask the screaming, loud yelling noises dancing their dissonance upon the air. Those clashing, jangling, crescendo-ed beats which are bent on unleashing their gruesome grating noises upon me. All this time I cower in a corner, my face hidden, my eyes closed, my ears burning from the tintinnabulation and cacophony upon my eardrums.

Please stop, I beg of you.

Still the rattling, jarring arguments continue shrilly, ignoring my pleas they continue on.

STOP!!!!!!!!!!!! I yell rather loudly.

Total silence ensued for just a moment. They stare at me for just that moment, as if I mattered then, but that lasted for just that particular moment. Then turning their eyes back upon themselves, they began the clamorous noises again.

My Panophobia has now made itself a part of the mix. Panophobia, the bizarre fear of everything. Omniphobia and Pantophobia surround me, phobias by other names but the same, with the same results.

I fully realized my hermit-like existence has a name, many names actually, for I believe that from time to time, we all have a bit of phobia about something or the other.

Pan, that Greek God has come to my mortal soul and by design has colluded with my ghosts to spread great feelings of panic and anxiety upon my mortal and frail coil. My brain has perceived the need to share my memories, it does not concur, so it bids me stay silent.

Surely you cannot expect my moment of self-discovery and the opening of my eyes to a universe well beyond that which I had aways imagined it to be, to remain a secret from the world.

"Yes, I do". Was the stubborn answer.

Suddenly there appeared a strange stillness upon the air. No longer could I hear the onerous troublesome din around me. I heard a voice inside my head, gently but firmly, it spoke of wisdom to me.

"Open your eyes and look around you. Look carefully at the characters, the voices which bellow and clangour, wanting to be heard".

I sat there quietly for a few moments, then slowly opened my eyes. As the many apparitions came fully into my view and focus, I realized and heard what they had actually been trying to say. There in front of me was a ghost, a raven and a spider which had been crawling down the wall behind me. On the floor was the skeleton that always fascinated me, slithering so very, very slowly toward me was the serpent from the Garden of Eden. There, not far from me was something in a creepy shell which I did not immediately recognize.

"I see and hear them, but I do not fully understand what it is that you are actually telling me".

"Do you not see what they represent? Think back on the stories which you have written, both literally written, literally lived and metaphorically envisioned".

I dug deeper into my psyche and realized that my inner voice was right. I had written stories about all my noisy visitors. They were here to stay for a long time, they were the epitome of my awesome imagination and creativity, my life in cinematic choreography. I could not choose any single one, for they all yet made up the whole. The entire ME.

All my emotions, my hurts, my pains, my achievements, my joys, my sorrows, my winnings, my failures, my gains, my losses, my ups and my downs, my valleys and my mountains, had been freed when I started to place them on a pedestal of writing for all to see, thus freeing me of most of my phobias.

I had written something or other about these images before me, yelling in my face. Some had been written in ink, some in sweat and tears, and some even written in blood and woe. Yet the most beautiful of all, had been written in love, sharing, caring and friendship.

One's perspective of life changes depending on which phase of one's life they are experiencing at any given moment. I shall soon be heading into my twilight years, what mattered greatly to my younger ME, seems less important to the more mature ME. Younger me found that the big things were what mattered, more mature ME opts for the little wonders that make my day worth waking up to. The little radiant smiles of the young, the gift of a new day, family, friends and the health and strength to face each new day's challenges.

Engaging the mind no matter what the age is a wonderful thing, engaging the mind as it counts down the years is of utmost importance. I have always doodled my poems, short stories and quotes in notebooks. But having a social haven where I can read, write and create at my leisure has been medicinal balm for my brain. This along with my love of puzzles is my brain food.

Accounting for my thoughts has put things into perspective for me.

I could choose to regale everyone with the personal memories, my life's wins and losses, but I shall choose this one tiny moment which has allowed me to face myself and feel that I can express myself to my heart's content. I can and will be really happy doing this small thing which has made a big difference for me personally.

So no, mine is not in the choosing of any great moments, it is for the little junctures in between where I find solace, that I choose to make a personal point-in-time.

There will be many with great stories of great achievements, my hearty congratulations to your hard work and wonderful successes. My little words will pale in comparison to your lofty and grand accomplishments. May you have many more to share dear Vocalites.

A tiny part of my day will always be my favorite when I relax for an hour or two after a hectic day, pretending to be a very famous Wordsmith. I then am happy and content being me.

<><>