keeping anxious secrets

I had my first panic attack when I was 10, but I acutely remember being anxious and obsessively fearful for, well, as long as I can remember. I distinctly recall, at 4, being terrified that the "floaters" that appeared in my eyes after looking at a bright light meant that I was going blind. I kept my imminent blindness a secret from my parents because somehow the idea of hearing from them that I was probably going blind was scarier than my own imaginings.

In first grade I discovered a sty on my bottom eyelid and assumed that I would need immediate surgery and would probably go blind. I was too scared to tell my parents about it, and so I walked around for weeks starting at my parents with wide eyes, hoping that they would notice the sty and would save me the trouble of having to tell them.

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" my mother would ask.

"Oh, nevermind." I would squeeze my eyes shut and wonder why my parents weren't paying closer attention.
* * *

I wonder where this impulse comes from -- this determination that it is better to hide the things that terrify and obsessively preoccupy us. While I learned that talking about the things that made me anxious and seeking reassurance that I am actually ok (which, it turns out, I almost always am) is an incredibly strong antidote to my obsessional fears and health anxieties, I still find myself hiding things from people who could help me. I spent a solid nine months convinced that I was secretly a homicidal maniac before I haltingly admitted my experience to a therapist -- who told me that I had textbook OCD-related obsessional fears of hurting others. And almost immediately afterwards, my fears disappeared.

Next post -- a discussion of how to help kids with anxiety.