Memories and Fears

Before I crack on with this post, another in my long line of Observations, I would like to give a follow up to my Anxiety post. To all those who may be concerned, please be assured that I am past the worst of it and feel much better now.
(Never underestimate the curative powers of a hug, and words of comfort, from the one you love.)

~ * ~



And now, our regular scheduled programming:

An interesting thought occurred, just the other week. I was lounging in bed, more than likely reading further into The Dark Tower, when I decided I wanted to return to a very specific slice of childhood.
Those of you of a similar age, who grew up with the PlayStation 1 console, you may remember demo discs. They usually came free with gaming magazines and contained about...ten/fifteen minutes, tops, of existing games or videos of game play. I don't recall when/where/how we acquired ours, but I certainly remember playing it. Squatting in our dusty pile of PS1 games is such a demo disc.
It contains:
Demo play from PaRappa the Rapper, Kurushi and Nightmare Creatures.
Video play from Final Fantasy VII and....some surfing or boating game, I can't remember. The videos never entertained me: why watch someone else play a game, when you can just play another yourself? It didn't interest me as a child and still fails to interest me now! It, like the 90's, are little more than a fading memory.

Anyway, during that 30est. minutes of youthful nostalgia, I discovered that since childhood I had improved at Kurushi, entirely not improved at PaRappa the Rapper, and - The Point Of This Post - I was still scared by Nightmare Creatures.
Now, anyone of today's generation would read such a statement, see the game in question, then point and laugh in my face. Compared to today's titles, Nightmare Creatures is not scary. In the fifteen minute demo, you play a very pixelated character, armed with an almighty fighting staff, who is attacked by several equally pixelated monsters. These include zombies, werewolves and gargoyles. Their mechanics work like a lot of old games; their movements aren't smooth, during attacks they switch between swinging their arms or standing still, and they come equipped with three sound effects at best.
Compare that with recent horror game Alien: Isolation. The Xenomorph looks, sounds and moves like its film counterpart, and it is so cleverly programmed, it never does the exact same thing per game. It doesn't follow a set route or set of instructions - in short, you can't cheat your way around it.
Now, Alien Isolation also scared me, I won't deny that for a second. But what Alien didn't do, which Nightmare Creatures did, was have me playing in a heightened state of uncomfortable tension. The only way I can really describe it is like a full-body itch, or my skin crawling; despite the fact I was over a decade older, had played/seen/read tonnes of other scary texts, I was uncomfortable and didn't like that I was playing it again.

And I wonder if this is an example of fear linked to memory. I've seen a video around this, theorising that "if you take a memory, attach it to an emotion, it burns in your memory and you remember it forever." This is why I can remember countless joy-inducing Christmases, devastating losses in the family, and every nightmare I've ever had - whereas boring, day-to-day activities like school and college might as well be in someone else's head.
As a child, I was terrified of Nightmare Creatures - regardless that our "copy" of it only lasted twenty minutes maximum. If my brother was ever playing it, I had to leave the room. Because, to my 7/8/9/10 year old self, it wasn't just a clump of cloudy pixels fighting a different cloudy clump. It was a man, left abandoned and alone, armed with a stick and fighting off a terrifying werewolf, with claws and teeth bigger than his head. When you're a kid, you don't care about shoddy special effects or less-than-impressive graphics. Between the game dynamics and your imagination, you create the fear.

(Sometimes it's not just kids. Thanks to Jaws, a lot of people got scared by a big rubber shark............including me!)

Had I played Nightmare for the first time recently, I was have immediately dismissed it, switched onto something "actually" scary like Evil Within, Resident Evil or BioShock.
But because I had that childhood fear of it built into the base level of my brain, Nightmare Creatures created in me a level of tension and discomfort that the above titles never quite achieved.

So if you're ever in the mood for a proper fear-fest this Halloween, root around in your childhood memories and dig out what used to put you on edge in your infant years. Just imagine it:
October 31st. Everyone's out watching IT or Insidious or The Human Centipede.
And then there's me.
All the lights off.
Wrapped up in blankets.
About to watch The Black Cauldron.
Cos let's be honest here, no child was fully prepared for that film!

Have a good one

=]

~ * ~

 

It's just occurred to me I "sort of" covered this topic over four years ago, back in January 2013. With a different spin on it, however. To anyone interested, have a link!

Anxiety

My mind has gone to a dark place.
You probably wouldn't notice.
Why would you?
It's a skill I've unwittingly mastered.
To look calm when I'm not.
Like...a quiet ocean which hides the depths below.
Inviting you in.
To drown.
Again.
It came out of nowhere.
I didn't expect it.
Does anyone?
All I was doing was listening to music.
Something I've done a trillion times before.
Something I consider(ed) safe.
A random song.
Then.
An equally random, half-conjured memory.
That memory.
A spark.
Lighting an almighty fuse.
Leading to an "anxiety attack".
That is what people call them.
Their title.
I have others. 
Plenty.
My mind has gone to a dark place.
My mind has turned inward.
My mind has rebuilt its walls.
Whatever name we give to our pain.
It doesn't detract from its power over us.
The inside of my head writhed.
Almost like a cramp.
Though not as painful.
The sensation is the same.
Several layers crushing against one another.
A fist clenched tight.
A mouth devouring itself.
My mind has turned inward.
I am bombarded.
With emotions. 
And questions.
And thoughts.
And ideas.
And fears.
None of which are truly my own.
Unwelcome and crazed delusions my
walls
dark place
anxiety
demon
comes up with:
You will fail.
You will get this wrong. 
You will make people upset.
People will hate you.
No-one likes you anyway.
You can't compare.
They didn't read your message.
They don't care about you.
They don't love you.
They're just lying.
It's over.
You're over.
That.
Endlessly.
Relentlessly.
Mercilessly.
One
bad
wrong
dark
thought.
After another.
And another.
Until your head hurts.
Your blood runs cold.
And you feel alone.
Even in a crowded room.
Looking at others.
Envying their peace.
Hating yourself.
And when you hate yourself.
There's not a lot you can do.
You can avoid things you hate.
Except yourself.

To anyone not a fan of the layout so far, the above style of writing represents an attack - though is not nearly as vicious. Read each line in turn, one immediately after the other, quickly, firing onto the next. You might not even remember the previous one. There isn't time. You just get thrown another. Whether you like it or not.
That is your mind turning against you. Drowning you in thoughts without time to actually think, nor even breathe.

Think of it like a personal demon, squatting in the darkness, watching everything, and remembering all of it. It hoards, keeps and contains your bad memories, your dark ideas, like its own treasure. And when it so chooses, at any time, ready or not, it shall share its treasure with you. It whispers everything you never wish to hear nor even think about. 
Whispering in a familiar voice.
Your voice.

I am getting better, in recent weeks, though with relapses - I suffered one just today, in fact, hence my arrival here. I'm getting better at convincing the demon, and so myself. I'm getting stronger, which means I can come up with better arguments.
Your friends are ignoring you.
Well they're probably busy - we all are.
They hate you.
After all the times we've spent together, I doubt that.
They can't stand you.
Last time we met up, they said they had a great time.
They were lying.

^ That one is harder to fight. You can convince your demon of almost everything, but you cannot absolutely know whether or not someone else has lied.
Sorry. That's just an unfortunate fact.
The demon will insist that they did lie.
They must have done; why else would they pay attention to someone as awful, as pathetic, and as downright worthless as you. Someone undeserving of love, undeserving of everything, except loneliness, and isolation.

(Yes, these are personal examples. To those who know me, I apologise for any upset/worry caused. I am alright, though. Just read on...)

However. This is becoming less of a one-sided game. Whenever my demon plays the Lying Card, I like to play my own hand back:
They were lying.
And so are you.

I can fight back, always will, but that doesn't stop the attacks happening - like an opposing force that won't take the hint, won't stop until I'm defeated.
I lose time and concentration. While the barrage of dark thoughts comes, and while I fight back, focusing on anything becomes nigh impossible. I cannot truly see the book in front of me, and any lines I do read can't land, there's too much activity going on within. Nothing can continue until I calm down again, until I convince the demon its wrong, to shut up, and to leave me alone.
I wouldn't go quite as far to say that anxiety ruins my life. From what I understand others suffer far worse than I do - some struggle to make it out the other side, like I can - but it still makes its impact.
It can affect my job - as it has today - and it can affect my relaxation time in the evenings.
It is as unwelcome as the thoughts it creates.

On the up side, and yes there is an upside, I came to realise something just the other day. While I may think these things, I do not believe them. I have that inner strength to tell the difference between a dark thought and a personal belief.
I may think myself a bad writer, but I do not believe it.
I may think my relationship will end, but I do not believe it.
I may think I am worthless, but I do not believe it.

This made me consider the difference between childhood, and adulthood, and thus brings me to the conclusive point of this post. When we're scared as children, we get told: "the monsters aren't real." We do our best to stop believing in them.
Then, we get older, we see the world for how it truly is, and we learn something new. Something worse:

There's nothing in my cupboard.

There's nothing under the bed.

But the monsters are there.

They're just in my head.

 

The monsters aren't teeth, claws, eyes, and fright.

They're no longer what goes bumps in the night.

They're unwelcome thoughts.

My darkness defined.

They're building their walls.

Inside my mind.
 

Our monsters aren't in nightmares anymore, they're not lurking in basements or dark school corridors. They're the demons in our minds.

But remember, boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen.
No matter what age you are:
The monsters aren't real.

They may take over my head, from time to time.
But as long as I don't believe them.
They can't hurt me.

- Robert

PS. On a final note, I don't write this as a cry for help, nor plea for attention. I write this because it's my truth, and because it always helps me to write when I'm troubled.
And maybe, maybe, my doing so will help someone else.

We can conquer demons together.