I haven’t faced my worst fear yet – being alone

If I’m at home alone, I can’t go to sleep – I’m scared to death. I turn on all lights, in all rooms, I open all doors and most windows, I turn on the TV and open my laptop. I sit with my back to the wall, to observe the interior of the house, for danger. If I open the fridge, I’m terrified while I retrieve the food – because I can’t see what’s behind the fridge door. If I open the door to the restroom, I have to turn on the light, quickly – someone might grab my hand if I don’t. I can’t be alone in the house – it’s dangerous, it’s not safe, it’s where I was abused most of the time, because there was nobody to see, there were doors, the doors closed, and it was dark behind the doors.

Just when I think my depression is over, it strikes again. When I think I’m finally happy, healed, my body gives me another portion to process, the one that’s even deeper, scarier, more powerful then before. I’m going down the time in my memory, down to the very first episodes of abuse, the ones that leave the most devastating impression – and the least clear ones, the ones connected to pure feelings. The younger I was, the more clouded was my perception, the deeper the wound, the harder it is to retrieve and make sense of.

The fear of darkness, of being alone in the house, of not being able to go to sleep when alone – these are my most irrational fears, and these are the ones that go way deep into childhood. I’m afraid to face them. I know that they always will be with me, in any house – so long as I bring them with me. The only way out for me is to face them – alone.

My therapist suggested to attempt to go backpacking alone – I nearly lost consciousness at the idea of it. Me – alone in the forest, at night?? Forget it. I will die from fear. He told me a story of how he and a few other therapists worked with a group of “troubled youth”, fresh from the street and off the drugs. They took them camping and backpacking, and on one trip, they dropped them off one by one, each with a tarp and a sleeping bag, close enough to reach each other by foot, far enough to be out of sight from each other. Overnight. The kids played tough, until they were left alone in the woods. Of the 10 kids only 3 made it through the night alone. Most found their way on foot to the main camp, two others found each other. In the morning, the therapists picked the kids up. Out of the three, two sat wide awake, never closing their eyes for the entire night, and only one was asleep. But the three that made it alone, changed overnight. The empowerment of being able to withstand their own fears made them into new people. I cried as he told me this story. He asked why I cried. I said, I felt so much pride, for those three kids; I would have felt as proud of myself if I could do it. Only, I said, I probably never will. He said, give yourself time.

Here I am again, alone in the house – though I am not alone, my son is asleep in the room next to me, still – I feel completely alone, my husband and my daughter are out. I was never able to go for business to any destination – due to this fear. I went maybe twice, both times I watched the TV until 4 in the morning, until by some miracle my eyes simply closed themselves and for a few seconds I let my guard down, just enough for the sleep to kick in.

I’m dreaming of one day to go to a Vipassana retreat for 10 days of silence. 10 days of being one on one with myself, my own fears and emotions, together with other people in the retreat, yet on my own, as none of the participants are permitted to speak to each other. Sounds like hell, some of my friends said. Sounds like hell, I agree, yet all the hell is only what I carry within myself, and to let it go I have to face it. Will I have the courage to do so? My therapist said – maybe start with one day? Baby steps? I laughed. Right now, if I sit for 10 minutes without doing something, I go berserk. I have to fill the void, to not let my fears start creeping in. I did it today, again, wrecked a happy Sunday into a non-talking grumpy day – went down the spiral of depression.

Being alone will be my rite of passage. I’m prepping for it. I don’t know when, but I will do it. And I will come out the other way – as new.