Fears & developing visual thoughts.
Sep. 15th, 2007 03:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
juushikaI've been very easily spooked lately. For the first time in my life, I am honestly scared of the dark. And, also probably for the first time, I don't think it's the fault of the various and sundry depression issues (although on second thought this may be a very new and unique way for anxiety to rear its ugly head). It hasn't lead to bad dreams, just problems sleeping. The only real change in my mood is that I'm now more clingy than ever because I want someone here to fill in the dark corners and make me feel safe.
The explanation, I think, is that I've developed visual thoughts, and these images scare me.
This is very strange for me. For as long as I can remember, I've thought in words. More specifically: full words, full sentences. And I've never had mental images, except of course in dream. There's been nothing in my head but fuzzy darkness, and I hear rather than see my thoughts. It's probably lead to my affinity for words—for me, they are more natural than pictures, than any other kind of sight.
But lately, it seems that everything that could be even remotely scary prompts mental pictures which are, unfortunately, all the more haunting for being fragmentary. I glance at the Ju-on cover: I see just the face of that creepy boy in my head, completely isolated with his skin white and his eyes sharp black and white rings, staring, and the image just will not leave until I look at something else. Hell, it's even there now. I've taken to repeatedly pausing movies, no matter how non-graphic the scary parts are, and taking a break to stand up and walk around before I watch more. If I don't, the visuals make me jumpy and frightened, and they don't leave me after the scene has passed. Everything gets to me: the Ju-on cover, the creatures in Lady in the Water (which I just finished watching), and sometimes but more rarely just simple thoughts, like an old lady with long ratty gray hair.
Visual stimuli can prompt these thoughts. Images I dream up in my very own mind work too. But (and thank goodness) while I find books more vividly scary than ever (in the pleasantly thrilled, heart pounding way, not in the freakishly paranoid way)—the written words don't prompt the mental pictures. Since I've been reading rather rabidly lately, I'm glad for that. But the visual images, coupled with the big and empty feeling of this new place means that I feel, constantly, a little scared. I feel like something is watching me from behind. I know these fears are groundless, but I still avoid looking over my shoulder. When I have to sleep, I put on movies I've memorized, movies that can no longer scare me, and let those images replace the scary ones. Generally, though, I just wait until the daytime. When the sun rises, I feel like it's safe to turn off my lights and sleep.
I've never been afraid of the dark before. And these fears are so shallow it feels like I can see the truth on the other side, like I could puncture them through with enough thought—but writing about them now, I still get scared.
And as far as I'm concerned, you can all have your visual thoughts back, thank you kindly. I've tried them and they aren't for me. I prefer my words. They don't give me the willies.
The explanation, I think, is that I've developed visual thoughts, and these images scare me.
This is very strange for me. For as long as I can remember, I've thought in words. More specifically: full words, full sentences. And I've never had mental images, except of course in dream. There's been nothing in my head but fuzzy darkness, and I hear rather than see my thoughts. It's probably lead to my affinity for words—for me, they are more natural than pictures, than any other kind of sight.
But lately, it seems that everything that could be even remotely scary prompts mental pictures which are, unfortunately, all the more haunting for being fragmentary. I glance at the Ju-on cover: I see just the face of that creepy boy in my head, completely isolated with his skin white and his eyes sharp black and white rings, staring, and the image just will not leave until I look at something else. Hell, it's even there now. I've taken to repeatedly pausing movies, no matter how non-graphic the scary parts are, and taking a break to stand up and walk around before I watch more. If I don't, the visuals make me jumpy and frightened, and they don't leave me after the scene has passed. Everything gets to me: the Ju-on cover, the creatures in Lady in the Water (which I just finished watching), and sometimes but more rarely just simple thoughts, like an old lady with long ratty gray hair.
Visual stimuli can prompt these thoughts. Images I dream up in my very own mind work too. But (and thank goodness) while I find books more vividly scary than ever (in the pleasantly thrilled, heart pounding way, not in the freakishly paranoid way)—the written words don't prompt the mental pictures. Since I've been reading rather rabidly lately, I'm glad for that. But the visual images, coupled with the big and empty feeling of this new place means that I feel, constantly, a little scared. I feel like something is watching me from behind. I know these fears are groundless, but I still avoid looking over my shoulder. When I have to sleep, I put on movies I've memorized, movies that can no longer scare me, and let those images replace the scary ones. Generally, though, I just wait until the daytime. When the sun rises, I feel like it's safe to turn off my lights and sleep.
I've never been afraid of the dark before. And these fears are so shallow it feels like I can see the truth on the other side, like I could puncture them through with enough thought—but writing about them now, I still get scared.
And as far as I'm concerned, you can all have your visual thoughts back, thank you kindly. I've tried them and they aren't for me. I prefer my words. They don't give me the willies.
