The Need to Become Fearless

"The fears we don't face become our limits."

The morning starts off no differently than any other. The blare of my alarm wakes me up at exactly 7:20 am, and I struggle through heavy eyelids to smash the 'off' button. Head in hands, I slowly bring myself to the edge of the bed and grimace at the sight from my window. Clouds. I shake the thought away and go on with my routine.

A steady hour of working out and strength training. A hardy breakfast of bacon, eggs and avocado. The local news, which thankfully lets me know that the day was only "Partly cloudy with blue skies headed our way later this afternoon." A walk around the neighborhood with my emotional support pup, Chica. And finally... the shower.

I save this for last everyday, without fail. Showers make me feel weak, nervous. No grown man should be afraid of climbing in and turning the water on. And yet, here I am, standing on the outside giving myself a pep talk to achieve one of the most mundane activities in anyone's life.

"It's only water," I tell myself, the faucet turned with trembling fingers, ready to start my normal routine. "Just water in a shower. A collection of droplets falling on my head in my house."

The pacing is back as I get ready to to step inside the bathtub. Why is it so different today? I should have this down pat. I can do this. I can do this. It's only water. A collection of droplets falling on my body to get myself clean. A whimper hit my ears and Chica steps into the bathroom, her tail wagging softly as she moved over to me.  I sighed as she nuzzled the back of my right hand with her nose and I slid down the wall to sit in the floor beside her. My face burrowed into her soft light colored fur as the water keeps running. A constant reminder of how fucking broken I am.

It's only water. I can't drown taking a shower.

I keep myself separated from the water for as long as possible by standing behind the shower curtain to start the water. With trembling fingers, I graze the hot and then the cold. With a few more calming breaths, I pull the tab at the faucet and the water shoots from the shower head. It'll be over before I know it.

I've got my showers down to a science. 3-in-1 hair, body, and conditioner. It's almost over. I start from the top, work my way down my body quickly. It's almost over. Slight pause for rinsing. It's almost over. Slam the water off. Catch my breath. Have an existential crisis. Usually lasts less than three minutes. And yet, just that small amount of time is enough to cause me enough dread to last through until the next morning. Rinse and repeat.

Forget brushing my teeth in the shower. No way in hell I'd ever shave with water falling around me. I can't stand in the steam to relax after a long flight, I can't let the water ease an aching head ache. God forbid I actually ever soak in the tub. Honestly, I'd rather die, which is completely possible if I were ever to sit in a bath. The thought alone is enough to... fuck. Practice the breathing. Deep breath in through the nose, out through the mouth.

I waste no time drying off. I run my towel quickly from head to toe before I blow dry my hair. If I even feel the slightest bit of dampness on my scalp, it only reminds me...

Chica helps me forget. She knows as soon as I need her, and I always need her after a shower. As soon as I'm dressed, she sits with me and lets me feel the her soft fur. It took a bit of extra training, but she knows not to give me puppy kisses. It's not that I'm scared of it, it's just that I've been known to spiral over the smallest of things. It kills me that my pup wants to be affectionate, but I can't risk letting her. For now, we'll have to make due with scratches behind the ears and a gentle hug from time to time.

I can't drown taking a shower.

I so tired of how it makes me feel paralyzed, and yet my mind is racing a thousand miles a minute. I remember it not being this all encompassing nightmare once upon a time. My fuzzy memories of running in front yard sprinklers in the heat of the summer. The hazy images of pulling on my boots just after a afternoon rainstorm. I actually smiled at water back then, with my palms up towards the dark sky as droplets crashed on my fingertips.

Just water. A collection of droplets falling in my head.

My skin longs for more time under the shower head, painfully aware that normal people...they allow their muscles to relax in the morning steam. Maybe they even hum a little song so that they can enjoy the echoes that only a shower can give their voice as they sing an off key song about unrequited love or the best way to kiss that perfect someone.

Chica whimpers again, and I struggle to move against the weight of my terror. The anxiousness is always there, hovering over me like a familiar cloud. The group sessions that I host are almost laughable at this point, the sane advice I give to others about helping them push past the own fears do nothing to my own deaf ears.

Perhaps tomorrow will be better.