Lightning in My Rearview

I was on the road today on my way home. Got caught at a redlight behind this truck, and suddenly the driver of the truck--- an older lady, a bit of the hillbilly persuasion--- jumps out and walks angrily over to an empty lot across the street. The passenger--- assumedly her hillbilly husband--- jumps out and walks her down. After holding up traffic, they both eventually walk back to the truck to finish their spat.

I pull off behind them, ready to put the cloudy day behind me, which causes me to look in my rearview. Suddenly, the mirror is split directly down the middle by a white streak deep in the distance. I accelerate... just a little.

I'm 24 now; this was supposed to be over with year ago. And yet, years later, my brontophobia persists, as strong as ever, and at times even stronger. Why??

Have I not prayed long enough or hard enough? Well... if a decade or more of prayer isn't enough, I guess nothing is. And all I have left to do is write about it; maybe discover a solution inside myself.

So what is it about this spectacle of light and sound that sits so deep in my consciousness. I vaguely remember when it all started, although I often doubt the validity of the story; fear tends to alter the memory, after all. There was actually a time in my young life when I wasn't so afraid of thunder and lightning, I'm almost sure of it. I don't remember being afraid of anything when I was in preschool for instance; I hadn't even gotten my first pair of glasses to be able to see lightning.

But the incident that stands out in memory--- my mother remembered it better than I, but I do recall it--- was when a fearsome storm came to us when I still lived in South Carolina. It was so fierce that we went in the basement garage, which is something we had never done before; perhaps that added some alarm to things to begin with.

I remember I was looking out of the window, which is something you're never supposed to do during storms. But--- I don't remember for certain--- maybe I actually enjoyed lightning as a child; maybe I was gazing out to get a better view of it. The problem is, I think I got the best view in the house that day.

There was a air-conditioning unit right outside the window, maybe three feet away. I don't think any of us knew back then that running air-conditioning units could draw lightning; maybe my dad knew, but either it wasn't turned off. I watched the sky through the window, never thinking that lightning would come near enough to us for concern. But it did; it came down right in front of the window in all its glory.

I can't really remember the next few seconds clearly. I can't remember if I fell down or ran or just froze in place; all I know is that my fists clenched tightly, white-knuckle tightly. Even now when I clench my fists, I can kinda remember that day.

I don't remember how quickly the thunder came after the lightning flash, but at some point, I covered my ears in total fear. One thing I do remember is the varied reactions of my parents.

My mother: "Are you okay, baby? Everything is okay, it's just a little lightning, don't be afraid..."

My father: "TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF YOUR EARS!! STOP BEING AFRAID!! I SAID TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF!!"

The more I think about it, the more I begin to think it was at this point that I began to feel a true animosity toward my dad. And the same disdain I have for storms is very similar to the feeling I get whenever he comes around to this day. Is this at the root of my fear?

After the storm, I didn't immediately realize what had happened at the time; it took me a while to put two and two together and figure out why our air conditioner was broken all of a sudden. Since that day, I've always made sure air conditioners were turned off at the very hint of a thunderstorm.

But I wish I had realized it that day. Because I think it was significant: because I didn't know that it was the air conditioner that drew the lightning, I thought it was me. You know how they say your chances of being struck by lightning are one-in-a-million? Well, I never felt that way; since that day, I've always felt like something was wrong with me that if anybody were to be struck, it would be me. Like lightning can "see" me or something. Maybe if I had known it was the air conditioner, I would never have felt this way.

I've spent most of my life hiding from storms. I was always in the basement in South Carolina; now that I don't have a basement, I wait it out in the bathroom. IF it happens while I'm at school, then I stay at school until it's over.

Have I ever tried to face my fear? Of course. I mean, my sister was afraid for a little while, but she managed to get over it. So how do you think I feel; of COURSE I tried to get over it. But, the last time I tried was NOT good for me.

I was about 21 years old. I sat in the hallway, leaning back and trying not to cover my ears or shake; my mother was in the den across from me, working on a paper for school. The storm approached, but I determined that I wasn't moving from that spot. The storm wasn't even that bad to be honest; overall, a few rumbles and some even rain. Nevertheless, my heart-rate was through the ROOF the entire time. It wasn't the actual lightning and thunder, but the fear of impending lightning and thunder. I tried to relax--- and if you know me, you know I can relax through anything--- but my breathing was CRAZY, and my whole body was shaking. It felt SO BAD, and the longer I sat, the worse it felt. Until, finally, I caved in and went for shelter.

I've conquered a lot of fears in my life--- heights, spiders, dying--- but none of these has ever before made me feel like I would have a heart-attack. My brontophobia is that severe. Still, I don't want to live the rest of my life in fear of anything. One of my greatest concerns is, when I get in a relationship with someone, will I still have this fear? Who wants their man to fear something like that, ya know?

I've tried to understand thunder and lightning differently, looking for the right perspective to release me from fear's grip. Old folks say it's the Lord speaking; the Bible makes similar references. But wait... is the Lord attracted to air conditioners or somethin'? If God has not given us a spirit of fear, then where did this come from? Is this a test that God has set before me that I hafta conquer? Is the Devil tryna keep me from reaching some plateau? Is this a random act of nature and I just happen to be the victim? Am I the one-in-a-million? When I'm in the bathroom praying so hard, is it amounting to ANYTHING? Or is God's mind already made up and this is something I'm gonna hafta live with? Is this one of those "My grace is sufficient" things where He won't actually fix me, but will instead make a way for me in my affliction? And how come nobody else seems to be afraid of thunder and lightning; am I the only one?

I've been praying earnestly about this for way too long; I've gotten to a point now where, whenever a storm approaches, I simply say, "Jesus, remember me." I mean, He already knows, right? So I don't hafta keep explaining and explaining and begging and pleading; just trust that He knows. And if nothing changes, you can't say I didn't put it in His hands.

When I get the money someday, I may go to a psychiatrist. But I'm very much nervous about doing so; I've seen how some psychiatrists treat brontophobia, and it's pretty harsh. They wait on a storm and take the patient outside into it. With thunder being as unpredictable as it is, that's gotta be hell for the brontophobe. Actually, that's one reason I haven't improved: thunder and lightning don't gradually increase or decrease, they occur randomly. Storms in the city are much worse than the storms we had in the country; there's no trees here to soften 'em up, no basement to go to, and my current house is on a hill, whereas my old house was at a much lower elevation. In South Carolina, we only got hit by lightning sparingly; in Pepperidge, we get hit almost like clockwork.

To be afraid of something you can't control... Spiders, you can stomp. Heights, you can climb down from or secure yourself at. Dying, you can put your life in Christ's hands. But thunder and lightning... you can't do anything about that.

What's worse, for every year that I haven't conquered my fear, it's only become more and more reflexive and instinctive. I'm conditioned to react; I do it almost without thinking. And when I don't, I feel like my heart is gonna burst; I really sympathize with asthmatics, because I somewhat know what it's like to have difficulty breathing.

At times, my fear has been so great that I would've preferred to be struck; at least I wouldn't have anything left to fear, ya know? But I'd rather just be like everyone else and live my life without the fear. I'll never understand why God would allow something like that to happen to me. At the same time, I'll never put it past Him that, in the blink of an eye, He could fix everything. Which leads me back to the question that plagues me each and every time it storms: why WON'T He when there's no one else could I possibly go to...