YOU ARE NOT ALONE - A companion online community discussion board for The Mental Illness Happy Hour podcast with Paul Gilmartin

I fear my creativity has been stifled and that all my art & music projects will never be completed, or...started.
I fear losing my 14 yr. old cat every day because she's been my best friend and companion through some of the worst periods of my life in the last 12 yrs.
I fear that I will inherit the Alzheimer's gene that took my father 10 yrs ago.
I fear the trust I have rebuilt with someone close over the past 2 years will be shattered by them picking up a beer.
I fear the next time I travel outside my state that my anxiety will envelope me to the point that I won't be able to enjoy, and or finish my trip.
I fear a debt collector is going to turn up from my past and sue me, even though I know I have taken care of my debts.
I fear my business endeavor will fail and my chances of a savings and retirement account will cease to exist and thus, I too, will fail to provide for my family's future.
I fear I will somehow encounter my abuser and not be able to say everything I've held in for the last 35 years because I will be terrified and totally out of my body. (Or I'll go completely bat shit crazy and kill the son of a bitch.)
I fear that I will encounter sleep paralysis again and have to endure the absolute terror instilled in me for what seemed like an eternity by an old hag and a gollum sitting on my chest. (One of the most terrifying experiences of my 43 years.)
I fear that the afterlife I believe in will turn out to actually be a Christian Heaven or Hell, and I'll get the hotter of the two.

Wow, I identify with so many of these.
I'm not so much afraid that my creativity has been stifled, as I am that it just doesn't exist and never has.
When I ponder "the worst" that could happen- being homeless, going to jail, having a terminal illness, etc- my strongest emotion is fear and sorrow that I could lose my cats. Sure, there's plenty of other things in my life I'd hate to lose (including my boyfriend!) but those feel more abstract and less visceral.
I had genetic testing done through 23andme.com, and was so relieved to find out I have one protective gene for Alzheimer's, so my risk is actually about half of the average for my race and gender.
One of my deepest Sads is that my best friend has been drinking again.
Anxiety, oh yes.
Afterlife, yes.

And holy shit sleep paralysis is terrifying. I don't usually hallucinate Beings anymore, but I always feel so sure I'm going to die if I don't move and wake up RIGHT. NOW.

I fear for my cats all the time too. I'm always afraid one will get out somehow. It's funny (sort of) that I have no fear of someone burglarizing my house other than I'm afraid they'll leave the door open and one of the cats will leave.

To potential burglars: I own no material goods of any value--take whatever you want--but please close the door behind you so my cats won't get out.

I have a family history of Alzheimers so I know that's coming down the pike sooner or later, if I make it that long. I hope I have enough courage to jump in front of train during early onset. Not really, but really.

Oh yeah, I get this one too! Just posted it before reading yours.

"I fear I will somehow encounter my abuser and not be able to say everything I've held in for the last 35 years because I will be terrified and totally out of my body. (Or I'll go completely bat shit crazy and kill the son of a bitch.)"

I always picture running into him in a grocery store. Some parts of me worry that I would simply freeze, or like you said.... just kill the mother fucker with my car keys.

But I think the thing I worry the most about in that situation... is that in a co-depedant / people pleasing panic... I will try to make small talk with him and pretend like I don't remember what had happened. Probably say something stupid like "Oh hey, thought that might be you. Uh... so your in town for the holidays I see?"

Blake: Thanks for sharing.

If there is one thing I know about confronting my abuser it is that I would most likely go bat shit crazy and maim him with the car keys and beat the living shit out of him. And then collapse on the floor into a small puddle of ectoplasm oozing back into a place of safety between the cracks in the floor.

It is a pretty powerful thought to endure.

What would we do?

Unfortunately, I know there is a possibility of running into him because he still works as a prison guard outside of my home town (yet another reason I don't return home to visit very often). When I do return there for visits, I always have my guard up. Yech. It sucks for us to have to be burdened with these memories and thoughts.

Nice to hear from you, Blake. Keep on keepin' on!!! xo