fear of the known

It appears that the cause of my panic attacks is not the fear of death, like I previously surmised. It’s the fear of living. Thank you Dr. Freud and your shadow theory. Years of freakin’ therapy and no one thought to mention this?

Fear of living. How pedestrian. How maddeningly stupid. How totally insurmountable. How does one get over something like this? Where does one start?

death and other amusements

Nihilistic thoughts of non-existence have been plaguing my waking and sleeping hours since reading the “Tibetan Book of Living and Dying” a while ago. Which is not necessarily a bad thing. The exceptance of mortality and the reality of dissolution is something that should be considered and hopefully accepted. I have definitely been more aware lately of the complete idiocy of my daily mundane fears. The clarity that this brings is welcome, although I would like to be able to sleep without waking up in a panic.

For someone that spent the better part of his childhood praying to a disinterested god to be unmade, I find it amusing that I am now having panic attacks about actually dying. Or more specifically, of no longer being conscious. I know that the process of dying is like the process of falling asleep. Which is something that is already familiar and even enjoyable. Maybe the fear comes from regret. The regret of living a life in fear?

I have been receiving acupuncture treatments to help with the panic attacks. I apparently have a well of anger in my liver that needs to be expressed. Go chi. I love acupuncture. Lying there in a warm dimly lit room with the needles in place. The sensation is like hands or a blanket lying on the skin. Weighty and comforting.