Irrational Fear

Pain

Being a cross country runner, swimmer, and track runner, I am very used to pain. I deal with it every day in these sports. This kind of pain doesn’t bother me, but a different kind of pain, the kind that I don’t intend to feel, is one of my worst fears. Pain comes in varying degrees, both emotional and physical. Pain is a growling phobia of mine. It now affects me at a much deeper level than it did throughout my childhood.

Involuntary pain in my bones and muscles that I may have ignored growing up now demands my full attention. When a painful stimulus sends a jolt through my body, and, I panic. I have always been able to overcome this panic quickly, but this has also made me realize my worst fear: someday I may feel a pain so bad that I cannot quell the panic, go insane.

When I was young, the thought of pain rarely crossed my mind. I did a flip off a five-meter platform into a pool at age eleven. I jumped to the ground from over ten feet up on play structures at the park when I was seven. I rode my Razor scooter around at skate parks, braving every ramp no matter how tall or steep it was. I thought doing dangerous things made me look tougher in the eyes of my friends, and, especially, in the eyes of girls. As I have grown older I realize that I probably inspired more worry than awe out of both parties.

Physically, I have subjected myself to most of the pain I have felt. Grueling workouts have left my body practically numb to the pain that comes with them. The pain they bring is tolerable because I know it is temporary. It also brings a small token of relief. I feel myself getting in shape as I work out, so more pain means more gain.

Emotional pain is much harder to manage. I have lost some good friends, and I remember how powerful and terrible the pain was. I felt lost, angry, confused, and sad for a long time. Only time can heal emotional wounds. There is no straightforward healing process. This makes it very hard to deal with, and I dread the possibility of it happening.

Sometimes, though, the mental and physical callouses that I have built up are breached. Any time somebody close to me dies, the emotional pain is too great for me to handle at once. The grief hits me in waves, spreading the pain over time to minimize its toll as much as possible.

I have yet to encounter any pain that I have not been able to overcome, but I have imagined what it might be like. The following scenario is the scariest  

“The injury does not immediately register. The pain, a tidal wave of it, is held at bay by the shock, which will soon fade away. All I know is that I will never be able to use my leg again. This realization makes me sick with emotional agony as well. Having led an active lifestyle, this injury will turn my life upside down. My leg hangs limp like a sock without a foot in it, completely shattered.

I sit in the middle of nowhere, my car had had a flat tire, and I had made a stupid mistake and tried to turn. This made it worse. I would now have to live the rest of my life knowing that this could have been avoided and it was squarely my fault.

The car had barrel rolled, and my leg had been smashed against the underside of the dashboard. I had crawled out of the car, which was now lying on its roof. My cell phone had no service.

The shock started to wear off. The pain starts increasing, slowly at first, then, after I shift my position slightly, becomes unbearable. I scream desperately, yelling for help, my panic only growing because I know that nobody will hear me. The pain continues to increase and I start yelling crazy things, desperately shouting prayers that will never be answered. I involuntarily convulse, bringing the pain up yet another notch.

I become irrational. All coherent thoughts disappear from my mind, and I lose touch with reality. I blindly inch along the road away from my car, knowing that I will tear the skin off of my arms and torso in the process. I have no idea where I am going, but am too driven mad by pain to care.

This situation itself is irrational. If I ever do have a flat tire, I will slow down and pull over as I have been instructed to. The danger in the equation will immediately be snuffed out. Despite reassurance that this scenario is of the utmost unlikeliness, I still have qualms about dangerous activities that could result in pain. The possibility of pain is present in any situation, and to this day I am very critical of what I do, analyzing the activity to avoid bringing any pain upon myself. Twelve year-old Sam will always hold my personal record for the highest ramp ever conquered on a scooter. Eighteen year-old Sam wants no part of that.