~*Amity Caught Stars in Her Arms*~ (diamond_life) wrote in garden_moon,
~*Amity Caught Stars in Her Arms*~
diamond_life
garden_moon

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Anxious in the Broom Closet

Merry Meet, garden_mooners. How was everyone’s weekend? Unfortunately mine didn’t go so well; I had an anxiety attack tied to Wicca.

Since Friday, I had had this awful pain in my side that refused to go away. It hurt especially whenever I laughed or breathed heavily. I have no history of asthma, nor do any of my family members.

I am a witch still in the broom closet, as they say, so none of my family knows…which is surprising, considering I live with six other people. My siblings are the most paranoid, especially my oldest brother, and one time he did find out, by looking at my e-mail. I denied it…but anyway, that experience made me a lot more careful. My books are always well hidden; as are my tools, and I never take any stupid risks like leave my stuff out…until yesterday.

Trying to get on the good side of my mother, I decided to clean my room. One of my spellbooks was lying under my bed, I remember. On Sunday, with no one home, I needed to take out this particular book—but I couldn’t find it. I looked under my bed. I fumbled through my closets and drawers. I began to panic. The pain in my side grew more intense. I struggled downstairs and tried to just breathe, breathe…

Yeah, well, cutting the dramatics, I was really worried. I was afraid my brother found it in my room and gave it to my mother, who locked her door before she left, so I’d have no way of getting it back. Besides the fact that I needed the book, it had guided me for more than three years in the Craft and I was fond of it. I had to find it, wherever it was.

Dizzily, I went to my brother’s room and looked there. I was really afraid that I WOULD find it, and that was already one person who knew. But I didn’t. To make a long story short, I didn’t find it anywhere but in my own room, under my bed right where I thought I thoroughly looked for it. After cursing myself out for five minutes, I realized that keeping such a big secret for so long is bad for my health. Before this, I’ve never had an anxiety attack that intense about anything. However, I don’t plan to tell anyone of my family members about my decision until I’m gone and out of their lives. Their accusatory, contemptuous faces leering down at me every time I see them would be, I imagine, more stress than I would ever need.
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