Home Alone

I have a confession to make.  Another quirk in my personality.  Remember my very first blog?  i told you there was craziness, and to hold on for the ride.  Well, here's another bite of my crazy:  I suffer anxiety when I am home alone.  I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that I have never lived on my own.  I'm 34 and have always had someone nearby.  My family in high school.  In college, even though I didn't have a roommate, there were tons of people always coming and going in the dorm.  If I had a major issue, I only had to walk a few doors down to find a guy friend willing to help out.  Then Carl and I moved in together and got married.   So I have never lived alone, and when my husband and kids go away for a night, or a weekend, it's a torturous experience for me.

My anxiety typically comes in the form of hearing noises, and imagining people outside the house.  Not nice people either.  No, the non-existent faces looking through the windows are axe-murderers.  I sometimes end up frantically crying as I worry about how my kids would grow up if something happened to me.  Lately some of my anxiety has been financial paranoia.  Last year, we had some financial problems and my car was repossessed.  So now when I hear noises, my brain says it's happening again.  The rational side of me argues that I'm not behind on payments AND they would send me late notices before that happened, but the panic is still there.  I don't know how long THAT will last.

When I am home alone, and experience anxiety, I go through a routine.  I make sure all my doors and windows are closed and locked.  I turn the radio or TV on.  I cover my bedroom window with a blanket.  I stay up late so that I am tired, and have a couple drinks to encourage the sleepiness.  I lock my bedroom doors.  I sleep with my dog beside my bed and my reading light on.  I sleep with headphones in my ears, my iPod playing a recording of a rainstorm or beach waves.

All of this helps me to sleep at night, but I wish the anxiety would just go away.  I don't tell many people because it's embarrassing.  I feel like a little kids afraid of the dark. They don't understand.  I can't expect anyone to understand what I don't understand myself.  Where does this anxiety come from? I don't remember ever actually experiencing a break-in or robbery.  Maybe when I was little......but I don't remember my parents ever talking about anything like that.   Maybe they're just crazy, unfounded creations of my over-active imagination.  Do you have any crazy fears or anxieties?  I'm off to hang the blanket on the window, wish me luck,