The Heights of Panic

It’s been years since I’ve had the nightmare. The one where I’m in a car driving or riding pleasantly along. In the mountains, or along a cliff, sometimes on a freeway or a country road. We encounter a curve and the mood changes. Our car fails to negotiate it and over the shoulder and downward we plunge. It feels like the rocks and waves are rushing up to meet us. I know it means death and a scream tears from my throat. And that’s when I wake up. Usually waking everyone else in the house too because the scream was out loud, not just in my dream. My heart pounds, my breath comes in gasps, I’m crying. The terror is so real.

It’s a dream I had repeatedly from childhood on into my adult years. Sometimes the end wouldn’t come until our car was fully underwater. With each repetition it felt more and more real until in my dream I would be saying, “It’s not a dream anymore, this time it’s real!” Fear overwhelms.

I’ve always had acrophobia, an extreme irrational fear of heights and falling. I hated riding or driving in mountainous areas as the reason for the fears from my dream was so in my face. But as an adult I would pray for God’s help and force myself to go in order to participate in activities I enjoyed such as women’s retreat in Big Bear, California. Even with prayer the nightmare preceded these events and I would border on panic the entire route.

One year the nightmare came with painful intensity. I woke both myself and my husband with my screaming. Sobbing, I said to my husband, “I can’t take it anymore. Will you please pray for me?” And he did.

I wrote Weapon of MassDestruction, a fictional story based on this incident, for the weekly challenge at faithwriters.com. And I’ve not had the horrible nightmare since. Mountain driving and high places were still challenging for me but manageable.

Until a couple weeks ago when my husband and I decided to spend a Saturday afternoon driving up to Artist Point in the Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest, in the North Cascade Mountain range.

Artist Point is a mere 5100 feet in elevation. Mt. Baker, at 10,781 feet, holds its lofty white head high above. But the route, the only route, is about 55 miles long and the last sections of it are a series of switchbacks and hairpin turns with very few guardrails.

I had not been up this highway in over thirty years but my reaction took me by surprise. A painful, panicked reaction. We emerged from the heavily forested region where views of the precipices could not be seen to suddenly being out in the wide open vista of rocky cliffs above and below. 

My chest tightened, my heart pounded. I murmured, “Oh, this is getting hard for me.” Then as my husband negotiated a particularly tight turn, I felt the world tip and spin around me and without my seatbelt holding me upright I would’ve probably resorted to a fetal position—not an attractive look for a sixty-year old woman. It was the nightmare feeling in full reality. I yelled something, I don’t know what—the whole scenario is blurred in my mind now. Scared my husband half out of his wits. So grateful for his skillful driving.

My husband pulled over at the next pullout, which didn’t really reassure me as the edge was RIGHT. THERE. OUT. SIDE. MY. WIN. DOW! Or at least it seemed that way. Hubby asked me if we should turn around and go back down the mountain. I managed to calm my breathing. And I said, “No. I want to go as far as the road goes.” No way was I going to let this fear triumph over me. It’s been decades since I was last up here and I wanted to see beautiful Artist Point and the                                              other amazing scenes. 

Mt. Baker shrouded in clouds.

I felt bad for scaring my husband. I felt bad that it sounded like I didn’t trust     him; that it looked like I thought he meant to kill us both.

But that is the nature of a phobia. It takes over the senses and cancels out reality.

According to what I’ve read since this incident, the extreme fear of heights can be an inborn one, with some people more affected by it than others. In addition I have vertigo so constant changing of direction will affect my balance and make me feel that I am falling when I am not. An article in Wikipedia states, “The human balance system integrates proprioceptive [the sense of the relative position of neighbouring parts of the body and strength of effort being employed in movement], vestibular and nearby visual cues to reckon position and motion.” I am challenged in this area already so if you put me in a world where visual cues have receded, don’t be surprised then to find me in the fetal position.

I enjoyed our stroll around Artist Point 

once we got there, but fighting back tears of shame the whole time did detract a bit. 

Before we headed back down the mountain my husband reassured me that there was no shame to be had. We discussed the fact that as a child the responsible adults in my life had ridiculed me, for the fears I expressed on this very route, the scene of the crime, so to speak, and used the opportunity to frighten me further. Sort of a situation of traumatized trauma. I work on forgiving them and accepting release from this tyranny.

On our downhill trek my dear husband purposefully drove even more sedately and with a mind for my comfort. I kept my eyes looking up with the name of Jesus in my heart and quietly on my lips. Fear still lurked but panic stayed at bay.

I am confident that Jesus my Lord does not look at me as shameful because of my fear. (Psalm 69:33; Romans 8:1, 38 ) He gives me grace and tells me to have it on myself. No shaming from him. (Hebrews 4:14-16) Reminding me that it's in the middle of terror that bravery and courage are demonstrated. (2 Corinthians 12:7-10)

Earthquake-proof the Dentist Office

Where do you feel most vulnerable?

I think I have to say for me, it’s when I’m in the chair. Where dental procedures are performed. Where my personal space is invaded. Where pain is involved. Where my airways seem to be impeded. That chair. Compared to other circumstances I’ve faced, say, being in stirrups, (and I’ve given birth three times and each time was by a different method so I can honestly speak to a variety of vulnerable positions), dental procedures evoke a very extreme level of anxiety. The level that makes dentists wish they’d earthquake-proofed their office, such are the tremors that emanate from my body and encompass the chair I’m occupying. I’m not exaggerating.

A couple weeks ago a convergence of increasing pain in my mouth and available funds sent me to the chair. Since we moved last year, I had to find a new dentist. Add another level to the anxiety meter. So at the first appointment, which was for exam and x-rays only, I put it right there on the forms I filled out. About being extremely anxious in the chair and how I would be taking an anti-anxiety medication to get through whatever procedures needed to be done.

I felt hopeful with how the young lady at the counter greeted me and helped me with insurance paper work and forms. And her interest in me as a person came through very clearly.

When my new dentist entered the room, I so appreciated that he kept his distance as we first talked, and that he listened. He asked me from where I thought the anxiety stemmed. He didn’t interrupt as I listed a myriad of circumstances involving dental horrors in my childhood. Topping the list was my first visit at age twelve, a tooth that my parents refused a root canal on, insisting that I would lose all my teeth by the time I was twenty-one anyway so just go ahead and pull it, leaving me there alone because they had things to do, me sobbing with terror, the dentist pulling the tooth and dropping it down my throat, which I gagged and choked on but eventually coughed out, the dentist yelling at me and telling me it was my fault that he dropped it. Yeah, it was pretty traumatic. Other things on the list were fillings done without anesthesia, and being told what a baby I was for complaining about the pain because there are so many other things way more painful.

I’ve had a number of root canals, crowns, tooth extractions and deep cleanings since then that didn’t qualify for horror movie ratings but the initial incidents are ingrained and affect every single new encounter.

My new dentist listened to it all. And then he affirmed me. He said what I’d experienced was horrible and it shouldn’t have been done that way. The next thing he said was so unexpected I still almost can’t quite believe I heard my ears right. Basically he said, “There’s nothing I can do to go back and change what happened. But what I can do right now is apologize for the way those dentists practiced and for what they did to you. I’m saying I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

Really?!? Yes, really. I’m still processing what that means. And I am working through that forgiveness.

Yesterday was my appointment for the root canal. I took my little Lorazepam to take the edge off my anxiety. My sister became my TLC giver and chauffeur. She even offered to hang out in the tiny waiting room. I couldn’t do that to her. Just knowing she was close by at The Woods Coffee Shop was enough for me.

I still felt vulnerable in the chair. I still felt that my personal space was invaded. And hey, when the dentist said, “You’ll feel a little pinch now” as the needle was inserted into my locally anesthetized gum, I felt it. A few tears leaked out. And my body felt jerky (thankfully no tremors this time). But I also felt respected and heard. I felt the kindness, the care, the concern for my welfare, and the peace and presence of Jesus that friends and family were praying for.

I like what a favorite author of mine Steve Arterburn says in his book, Toxic Faith, “The true presence of God in my life does not provide escape from reality and personal responsibility. His presence should provide a firmer grip on reality and a hope that reality can be faced with all its pain and sorrow.”

The dentist also said he’d like to get to a place where I feel I can trust him. I’d like that too. It will take time. But what a relief it would be to approach the chair without a tremble, as there are more procedures ahead.

Monstrous Limitations VS Super Power

So…I’ve been functioning in my new role for a week or so now, right? And there’ve only been a couple of meltdowns. Woohoo! But why would I have any meltdowns at all? Weeeeeelllll…if you read my previous blog post you'll see I mentioned that I am fully capable of managing my husband’s appointment schedule. Which is true, but it also brings me face to face with my two most monstrous handicaps, perfectionism and performance anxiety.

It’s not that I’m inept at my new occupation, (although I have to admit there’s a certain bumbling and fumbling, which my dear husband says is actually endearing and makes me more approachable---aaaawwww). No, it’s the idea that I have to be perfect in it and if I’m not perfect there will be rotten tomatoes thrown and the hook will be extended from backstage, circle my neck and yank me into oblivion. And the whole production will fall flat. That’s a lot of handicapping, let me tell you.  

Some of my limitations are temperament-based and some are from childhood misconceptions about things that happened. Things not in my control but somehow I thought they were. Like the death of a sister among other things. Takes a lifetime to process through that loss apparently; and the repercussions, which as a three-year old, I wasn’t capable of understanding.

I admit it’s weird that scheduling appointments for people I don’t know on a computer CRM would be the key to opening up the dungeon and releasing the Waddif Monster to bite at my heels. The Yushudda Ogre follows and whacks me upside the head while its cousin Yushudenta whacks me on the other. Aaaaaaagh! What’s a girl to do with these handicapping trolls?

This girl remembers a previous battle several years ago with Waddif, Yushudda and Yushudenta. That battle involved an actual stage with this girl assigned a lead role as Auguste Deter in a performance for an Alzheimer’s’ research fundraiser.

Going on-stage wasn’t new as I’d participated for years in church and community theaters but this was my first pivotal lead. And at an institute of higher learning, an added dimension of intimidation.

Waddif scoffed, “You might get a migraine and forget all your lines.” Yushudda screeched, “Why didn’t you say no? With your temperament, you’re not suitable.” Yushudenta accused me of being a fool for thinking I was capable.

I wrestled with the conflict of God giving me the desire and skill as an actress but also giving me a temperament that preferred to be in the background. I remember driving down the street to rehearsal one evening and asking God what was up with this. A familiar verse popped into my head and flowed like a Super Power through my heart. “My grace is enough; it’s all you need. My strength comes into its own in your weakness.”

It’s a Super Power that Paul also experienced. For both my God-given temperament and my God-allowed childhood, I’ve personalized what Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians 12:7-10 (The Message):

        “I quit focusing on the handicap and begin appreciating the gift…

Christ’s strength moving in on my weakness.

Now I take limitations (perfectionism, performance anxiety)

in stride, and with good cheer,

those limitations that cut me down…

I just let Christ take over!

And so the weaker I get, the stronger I become.” 

I realize, as I did for that performance of Augusta’s File, the most important thing necessary is for me to be present, not perfect. His strength really shows up when I’m at my weakest. Good-bye, Waddif, Yushudda and Yushudenta. Back to the dungeon with you.

A Note Scribbled to Myself

Do you write notes in church? It’s really okay if you do!

But if you’re looking at MY notes scribbles and thinking, “What a mess,” well, stop looking—they’re not for your benefit! These scribbles will serve to remind me days later of the ‘take-aways’, the concepts meant for my heart, my mind, my soul. Maybe at a moment when I most need them. The neat thing is that the Holy Spirit works through a sermon in an individual way. So what I take-away in my notes might be different than what you take-away. But I don’t want to be selfish with my take-aways. So guess what?! I’m going to share them with you today!

This past Sunday I had the privilege of sitting with my husband at Saddleback Church and listening to Nick Vujicic speak encouraging words that my heart needed. I can’t give it to you verbatim but I can share with you insights that made an impression on me. (The message however is archived on the church website)

Nick, by the way, commented that he loves to see people taking notes, not because it makes him feel good, but because he wants people to be able to look up later any quotes from the Bible that he uses and spend time thinking about them for their own benefit.

My ears and fingers caught a few concepts to muse on later (and to make your reading easier I’ve cleaned up the scribbles a bit. You’re welcome!):

           

The enemy attacks by influencing our thoughts and attitudes to try to keep us from God’s truth. Here’s Truth.

·        Psalm 23:1 The Lord is my shepherd; I have all that I need. (New Living Translation)

·        Jeremiah 29:11-14a   “For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. In those days when you pray, I will listen. If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me. I will be found by you,” says the Lord. (NLT)

We don’t know what God can do until we give Him the broken pieces. When we give Him those broken pieces, we’re saying we have faith in Him.

·        Hebrews 11:1 Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see. (NLT)

God thinks about me all the time.

·        Psalm 139:16 You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed. (NLT)

God thinks beautiful thoughts about me all the time.

·        Psalm 139:17-18 How precious are your thoughts about me, O God. They cannot be numbered! I can’t even count them; they outnumber the grains of sand! And when I wake up, you are still with me! (NLT)

Being disabled by fear and guilt is worse than no arms and no legs. The miracle of knowing God is better than having arms and legs. Moment of most impact for me: Nick commenting, “There’ve been times I’ve thought, ‘If only I had arms and legs, then I’d be happy.’ But I’m looking out at all of you, most of you have arms and legs. Are you happy?”

·        Philippians 1:6 And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns. (NLT)

When God doesn’t change the circumstances, He will use the circumstances.

·        Philippians 4:6-7 Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. (NLT)

What do we REALLY want?

To know the truth. The truth is God is sufficient.

·        Psalm 23:1 The Lord is my shepherd; I have all that I need. (NLT)

I’m thanking God for the blessing of Nick Vujicic, a man with a huge heart and a big voice. The world is being blessed by his ministry Life Without Limbs.

 And just for fun, here's the hat I wore on Sunday:

                                                       It's a great hat to muse in.