I finished the latest Hunger Games book, Sunrise on the Reaping, recently, and it triggered my obsession with the series, partially motivating me to reread all of the books. The other motivation is that staring at printed pages is probably a lot better for my eyes than a phone screen for hours on end.
As I’ve been reading the books — I’m currently halfway through Mockingjay — I’ve drawn a frightening number of parallels between myself and Katniss, specifically pertaining to how we both approach relationships. If there was ever a poster child for an avoidantly-attached, hyper-independent girl, it’d be a tie between her and I.
While I’ve been in therapy for the greater half of my life thus far, my issues with commitment and vulnerability have taken center stage over the past 3, or so, years. It took me the first 8 to admit that I even had an issue with it, because — in the irony of it all — that’d be too revealing to say, even behind the closed doors of a therapist’s office.
During my last session, I came to the realization that I, unconsciously, choose my words with caution whenever I open up to someone. That someone could be a friend, family member, romantic interest, or anything in between. I refrain from the “deep stuff” and keep things clinical and direct. I explain things matter-of-factly and end with a joke to lighten the mood or change the course of the conversation all-together. This brutal dose of reality has been ruminating in my mind for the past week and all I can think about is if I’ve ever had a genuine conversation about my feelings.
I’d like to say “yes,” but I am not totally sure. I think of times with my parents where my heightened emotions and sentences scattered between sobs have revealed the reality of the inside of my mind, but have I ever explained with candor and a clear-head? I think of times with my friends at bars and pre-games, drinks in hand, when I have exposed myself in bits and pieces, but have I ever soberly opened up?
The moment someone asks me “how are you doing?” anticipating a real and raw answer, I feel my stomach drop and a lump form in my throat. My palms sweat and my heart palpitates as the familiar feelings of a panic attack rush across my body and mind. I have to work up every ounce of courage I have to form even the simplest of sentences and even then I have little to no control over what comes out. There have been times I felt pressured into vulnerability — whether intentionally or not, I’ll never know — and feel instant regret. I feel unsafe in my body and an unrelenting urge to crawl into my own skin and disappear forever.
I think of Katniss trying to come to grips with the fact that she has feelings for someone, her confusion over whether or not someone is actually her friend or not, her internal debates over who cares for her. I relate.
The worst part of this recent discovery is that I have no idea how it began and I am afraid to find out. I have spent most of my life digging into why I am the way I am and medicating myself — both doctor recommended and self — so this shouldn't be any different than figuring out why I need to do things in multiples of 3s, why I can go weeks with little sleep, why I only see numbers on food, why I feel the need to get ahead, why the color red is my favorite, why I like to sleep on my left.
And yet, here I am, having spent a majority of my life shoving this fear deep down inside of me that I forgot I even had it. It’s starting to spill out now and consume my thoughts. With little distractions to keep the inevitable flood at bay, I am now forced to deal with it.
At this point, you’re probably wondering how this part of my website even exists, if I am so petrified with fear to divulge my inner thoughts and feelings. I question that too. But at the end of the day there is something freeing about not knowing who, if anyone, reads my words. Despite the fact that they will forever circulate the internet, they will always belong to me and be a living testament to the fact that I am capable of bringing down my walls.
And one day I hope I can do that with someone face-to-face.