A Big Storm

I love storms and the earthy smell that accompanies them. Birds churn in the air and big clouds full of color roll in. I feel excited about what hides in their fluffy interior. Though looming they are mysterious and beautiful.

And then as the sky unleashes its beginning blows I am terrified. The power of the thing I anticipated scares me.

Electric air touches the spaces between the hairs on my arms and I feel the need to cover myself before panic does. I let my hairs do what they must and stand on end, like the hackles of a dog perhaps they can protect me.

I do not run to the safety of my bed but give myself to the fear, I stand watching the storm unleash behind a glass window. For a moment I believe I am watching another world, one that is volatile, beautiful, and dangerous.

Thunder jolts me back into my body and I am reminded that my world is all of those things. I think, maybe it is the culmination of them that makes this powerful storm.

The moments pass quickly and with it, the fear subsides.

I like this fear and when it is gone I miss it. It is primal and reminds me that I am alive.

Some days anxiety feels like fear, but it never comes to a head. The storm in my mind does not stop or run out of fuel. It continues, taking new forms each day. It camouflages in the face of good things until I can’t recognize the difference between good and bad.

It is a wolf in sheep’s clothing that will consume me when I make one bad decision.

Unlike the storm, the fear of my anxiety is in the house with me. A window cannot protect me from its wrath. It sneaks around waiting to pounce when I let my guard down. It is slimy and paints a world that cannot be trusted.

A storm is honest and true. Its heavy clouds warn of its coming and its thunder tells you to take cover. A storm wants you to know it's there but anxiety utilizes the element of surprise to sneak up on you in the darkness.

I prefer the fear of a storm. I can see it, I can feel it and I know it can hurt me. I also know it will come to an end. The environment may be battered but its rain can nurture my tulips to pop through the soil’s surface.

Anxiety doesn’t do that. It makes me nauseous and inhibits my growth, making it worse than a storm of any magnitude.