This morning, as I headed to the subway, I was excited. Sort of happy. Anticipatory (love that word). I was on my way to stare down more fears and I was incredibly proud of myself for not freaking.
At least I haven't yet.
Both a local and express pulled into the station at the same time. I wavered. Local feels safer to me and this was only the third time I'd ridden alone in years.
I took the express. I flew uptown. I got to the hospital early. Yes, the subway is amazing.
I am amazing.
I've filled out my forms. That's the part that unnerves me the most. There are so many questions that don't pertain to me but just skimming makes me uneasy. And then there others like: are you ok with tubes being stuck down your throat? Honestly, I'm grateful to not have had that experience but I'm thinking no.
And now I'm sitting. Waiting. Playing apps on my phone. I could read. I could knit. I could meditate (that one's highly unlikely). Trying not to worry about being injected with dye. Trying not to imagine what that allergic reaction might feel like. Trying to keep my head together when fear is so close I can touch it.
It's coming for me. It wants me. It wants to win. And it's really good at what it does. My fear knows me. It knows where to sneak in, how to lull me and then strike, how to freeze my brain, shut down my logic, destroy my calm.
The battle is starting.
But I'm not going to let it win this time.