Irrational Fear

I am a "Why" person. Everything that happens around me, inside me, to me or because of me... I want to know why. Why do people try to assume a baby is saying a word when they are babbling? (Because humans instinctively look for patterns in things around them.) Why is PersonA so angry at PersonB over what seems to be something so small? (Because PersonaA sees it as a symptom of a larger issue, one that is a pet peeve.)

Understanding why people do what they do helps me cope with those things that are less than pleasant. Why did MurdererX kill VictimY? Maybe I'll never know for sure the answer to that but I have logical possibilities: maybe they got into a fight while drunk. Maybe one was trying to defend themselves and things got violent. Maybe MurdererX has issues with uncontrolled rage. Maybe MurdererX is a sociopath and has no moral barometer. I may never know, but I understand the possibilities. And it doesn't make it okay, not by a long shot, but it makes it a little more logical to me, it makes more sense.

Then there are the things for which I cannot answer the question, "Why did this happen?" Those things bother me. There is a spectrum of bothered involved, usually related to how strongly the resulting action made me feel.

There was a man who walked into a daycare with which he had no association and started stabbing everyone with the intent to kill. He killed two infants and one of the workers and put 12 other people in the hospital. Then he left and rode away on his bicycle. I can't make sense of this. I can only assume he was delusional in some extreme manner but why that place? Why those people? It makes no sense and it bothers me. It doesn't bother me to the point of disrupting my daily functioning (like the Andrea Yates thing did, where I still can't give a bath without a panic attack) but when I think of the incident, I feel agitated.

There was a guy whose car was stopped on a train track when the train came. It hit and killed him. As near as they can figure, there was no reason for him to be there. There was no traffic blocking him, the warning lights were perfectly functional and he had plenty of time to leave the vehicle if something was wrong with it. (They can't be sure because they squished the car, but if I remember correctly, they do not believe anything was wrong with the car.) I don't understand why this happened. Was he trying to kill himself? If so, he succeeded, though I can't help but wonder if he considered the aftermath that the train's engineer will have to deal with for the rest of his life. He feels like he killed someone, despite it not being his fault in any way, shape or form. I don't get it and that bothers me, but I didn't even remember it until I was trying to come up with examples for this post so it obviously isn't bothering me that much.

But some things do bother me and they bother me a lot...

We went to church again Sunday, as planned. The sermon was okay. It was about God giving us multiple chances to follow Him. It was based on the Bible stuff where Peter and Andrew and I don't remember who else were fishing and Jesus said to come be fishers of men and they did, for a while, but went back to fishing and Jesus came to them again and asked them to follow him and they did and became disciples. Good concept - I like the idea of a God who keeps presenting opportunities until you take one. Reminds me a little of the Three Rowboats and a Helicopter but that's for another tale, uh, sermon, or whatever. So, no major issues there. Still confused about the whole God/Jesus distinction but whatever. I'll work through it.

Then they announced it was time for Communion. And I panicked. Flat out, eyes like a deer in the headlights, looking for a way to get out of the building, can't breathe, can't think, can't talk kind of panic. Hubby talked me through it calmly, carefully, gently. He held my hand while I tried to break his fingers from holding so tight. He reminded me to breathe and kept telling me it was okay and that we didn't have to go up there or anything, just stay in our seats. But I was terrified. Even the word Communion makes my stomach turn over and my heart speed up, gives me that buzzy feeling in the back of my head.

This bothers me. A LOT. Because I have absolutely no reason to be afraid of Communion. I've never taken it in my life. The church I grew up in didn't do it. And I had good experiences with the church I grew up in so it isn't even a matter of guilt by association. I absolutely cannot pinpoint where that blind terror is coming from.

I never went to another church regularly. I mean, I went to my cousin's church during the couple weeks in the summer when I stayed there but I have absolutely no memory of that. No memory to the point that when I went to that church for my Uncle's memorial service, despite it being the same church building that it has been for 50+ years, it didn't even look familiar to me.

So it's not from a past church experience. What it is from? Why does the thought of having to participate in that activity, or be present while others do, scare me to an incapacitating degree? I can't answer these questions and I don't even have any theories. Plus, it directly involves me. And it generated a drastic (practically melodramatic) reaction in me. So it is on the high side of that spectrum.

There has to be a foundation for it - but what is it? Why did I freak out? Why am I extremely nervous and agitated just writing this, with my fingers shaking and my breath coming too shallow and too fast? And yet I can't come up with anything. It gives every appearance of being a totally irrational fear.