Selfish Appetite [5 Seconds of Summer]

[34]

"And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed, they don't know my head is a mess."

- -

Sloan

Fear and trauma have a peculiar way of manifesting themselves—by which I mean they come at us like an avalanche, utterly terrifying and capable of shattering everything we know.

It's something I grapple with nearly every day now, in the people I treat.

People fear many things.

What strikes me the most, however, is the variety of ways they choose to confront fear before they ever consider seeking help from a therapist.

Fear paralyzes us—it makes us freeze or flee.

It clouds our judgment, distorts our reasoning, and at times, makes us reckless. When we feel our physical or emotional well-being is at risk, the mind doesn't function clearly.

We go into fight or flight mode.

It's the body's instinctive response to events we perceive as threatening, stressful, or frightening. The moment we sense danger, our sympathetic nervous system activates, igniting an acute stress response that readies the body either to fight or flee.

We don't handle fear well, largely because we often live under the illusion of invincibility.

Untouchable.

Cloaked in an armor of confidence and self-assurance.

We don't cope well when something threatens to disrupt our world. It gets so overwhelming that our minds begin to warp, changing how we perceive and interact with everything. You remain hyper-aware, your thoughts racing, constantly on edge.

You think differently, so you act differently, convinced you're doing what's best for you and those around you.

Like love, fear and trauma obscure our vision.

They blind us, covering our eyes with a filter, forcing us to view the world through a distorted lens—often one that is unrealistic and fraught with problems.

And when it all eventually settles, when you're ready to speak your truth, to share your story, there's a chilling possibility that, by then, everything will have fallen apart beyond recognition.

*

I watch as Michael clumsily stacks a mountain of red cups on my kitchen counter, and I can't help but ask how much he thinks we'll actually drink.

"Have you met us?" he retorts, glancing up just in time to greet my grandma as she walks in with a knowing smile.

"I've called Tony, Flo, and a few other delightful people. Don't worry, we're having our own little party in the living room, while you kids destroy your livers in the garden, just like we agreed." she says, her eyes landing on the bottles of alcohol and shaking her head with disapproval.

"Your definition of a party is... interesting." Michael remarks, amusement dancing in his eyes as he stares at Alice.

"Do you have something to say about that?" my grandma fires back, her voice playful but sharp. "We had to run so you could walk, dear. Back in my day, I could out-drink all of you in my sleep." she adds, a glint of pride in her eyes.

"My grandma, ladies and gentlemen." I mutter to myself, shaking my head with a smile as I gather some shot glasses onto a tray to take outside.

She waves me off nonchalantly, swiping a handful of chips from the counter.

"These are ours." I call out, a mock sternness in my voice.

"Well, I raised you and let you live here, so I'd say that entitles me to a little leeway." she retorts, and I can't help but chuckle at her spirited nature tonight.