Air

Fresh air impoverishes the doctor. - Proverb

Claustrophobia is probably the one consistent neurosis that I have. That feeling of the air being sucked out of me. When I was a child, the coziness of the blanket forts my sister and I would make under the dining room table would turn instantly from fun to panic if the walls of the blankets closed in and concealed the entrance to the fort. I was fortunate to have my sister to show me where the flap was. Complete blackness when I am alone always gets to me because I can't see the cracks of light around the door. Even the final weeks of being pregnant many years ago had moments of "there are just too many people here inside of me and there is nothing I can do about it until nature decides to open the door." Maybe it isn't about the closed physical space as much as it's about my fear that I simply can not see my way out of a difficult situation.

Going outside for me is usually an instant relief for this feeling. That sensation of changed air the moment I step into the wall-lessness. It is like the vastness of the sky and the fluid edges of my vision outdoors are a firm hand that slaps me in the face and forces me to take a deep breath and get control of the fear. That breath of fresh air isn't just a physical reprieve, but a metaphor for getting outside of my own heads.

I am a grown up now, so I don't find myself in too many blanket forts, and sharing my body with another person these days is about something completely different ; ). So mostly, that claustrophobia is about darkness and my perception that there is no way out. It is those daily adventures when I open the front door and step outside that keep the darkness away. When I don't have a friend to remind me that the door is there, it's a way to cope. I can find my way outside and let the fresh air find its way inside my lungs and my head.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Just get outside.