When everything else fails...

When everything else fails, I have the mountains.

They have wonder, wisdom, peace, spiritual connection. Reminders that, if paying close attention to, every day has little miracles.

But they also have triggers, in my vulnerability and solitude.

Someone said that you can either go through the pain of transition or the pain of stagnation.

These past weeks I have been struggling a lot with transition and change. I was putting a lot of resistance again, although I gave myself permission to do it, temporarily.

In the battlefield, I keep telling myself, bravely, that I either live in fear, or live. But I think this is where the trouble might be- that I keep thinking is either or.

I had one humble moment, the other day, when I went hiking, which is where I connect more with my soul and spirituality. I said to God that I really wanted to leave all of my fears and worries to Him and the Universe, to be taken care of. But the truth is, I said, I can't.

What has been happening since that day, and also unfolding these past weeks is that I am truly seeing and knowing my fears. Deeply. It is way deeper than just fears of rejection, abandonment, hurt and change.

It goes way deeper than that. This realization gives me the ability to know what I am dealing with. It explains why I feel the way I feel most of the time (afraid and stuck), trying to protect myself at all costs. The more I do it, the more I isolate and get lost.

The more the darkness takes over. I'm not just avoiding darkness; I am also expecting it.

Working with fears, I am discovering, goes beyond throwing myself into a cliff hoping to figure things out on my way down.

For years, I kept having the same dream, and I haven't been able to figure it out. The dream is the same, only with different details sometimes. Last night I had it again, but for the first time I challenged the bad person in my dream. When I awoke from it, I went back to remember how I was feeling in my dream- trying to remember the exact fears I was experiencing to hopefully figure out the meaning of it; maybe figure out my deep and hidden fears.

I felt that same fear twice when I went hiking the other day. The second time, after a while, when I was coming back to myself, I realized I had felt that same horrific feeling two times that day - what was it? Why did I feel that ugly strong fear that paralyzes me, completely? Sure, the first time I was lost because the GPS took me to the wrong place, and I was in an unknown mountainous and narrow road, but I was inside my car. Nothing was going to happen to me- why did I feel so terrified to the point of feeling trapped and unable to get out of that situation? The second time, when I was in the right trail, and had barely started my walk back, I noticed a white van parking by the side of the river and turning the engine off. I panicked. It took me a while to start going towards my direction, on the phone with my son for a while, and making sure my pocketknife that I never want to use, was within reach.

Had I really been unsafe in both scenarios? And even if I was, especially the first time, when I was inside the comfort and safety of my car- why was I feeling that way? It didn't make sense.

The truth is that I am terrified of darkness, to a point that it paralyzes me. I have been carrying this heavy fear for years now. It's like this darkness took over, and I am trying to get rid of it, but the fear of it is as strong as the darkness itself. I am afraid that I will be sent, again, into a dark deep hole, where I will be left unprotected and vulnerable to be attacked by more darkness, and I won't be able to get out, staying trapped. That I won't be strong enough to save myself; to mentally sustain myself and get up, and out.

I know that my extreme fears and reactions in those scenarios is paranoia. And that it has a lot to do with my severe mental health. There was a period where I actually had to stop going to hikes, and then I started planning more trips with my kids instead of alone.

The reality is that some things don't work out- trying to put my fears in God's hands - magically. Or telling myself that I am more than my fears, or that living in fear is not a way of living. Sure, it is helpful, but is not the answer, nor is healing.

Healing is, when ready, asking the right questions, while accepting my humanity- in this case my fears.

I don't want to be afraid, but I am. A lot. And I don't know how to deal with them fears.

All I can do is allowing my mind and heart to stay open for answers.

Little by little, I have been able to say what I am afraid of (naming the fears). And Why (the past). And what I think is going to happen (my subconscious self trying to protect me from same outcome).

I am still dealing with a bad case of paranoia. Paranoia that is associated with mental health, and in my case, a result of past traumas. Traumas that have to do with darkness, and the only way out is through it. This means knowing what I am dealing with, naming it, and staying with it.

I can't heal with optimism, but optimism helps me and it's crucial for the process. I can continue with the healing journey by being humble enough to accept that I am dealing with paranoia and intense fear of darkness, and that it is bigger than me. With God's help, I can continue, but I have to be the one confronting the fears. And confronting them means working with them, in therapy and alone. It also means slowly doing the opposite. The opposite of being paralyzed by fear and paranoia is action in the face of fear. I can't completely stop something I love and that it is meaningful, like hiking, because unfamiliar scenarios will trigger me, sending me into complete paranoia - when I saw the white van, I went back to the small camping spot. I seriously thought about spending the night there, if the van didn't leave. I wasn't going to pass an unknown vehicle in the middle of nowhere if I was alone and in the middle of the woods. The other alternative was to call my son to come pick me up (extreme reaction), but I had the car. A small part of me told me how unrealistic everything was, but my paranoia was real and my reasoning absent - I was trying to protect myself at all costs.

My therapist told me the other day that it doesn't have to be either or. Black or white.

Yes, I am afraid and vulnerable to write and share in my blog, about my severe mental health struggles. But it is also who I am. It is important, and part of my identity and expression.

Not to mention how much I need it, for healing.