I guess it would be Claustrophilia. The embracing of enclosed spaces, nooks and crannies, do you use this term? I had a play tunnel as a child, fabric stretched over metal rings, and I loved to close off the ends of it and lay inside. It took me a small portion of a second just now to analyze that experience in a psychological sense before the word WOMB rose up before me, loomed in front of my eyes.
Sometimes my leg vibrates in the place where my phone usually is in my pocket even when my phone is not in my pocket. I wonder if that's gonna be a problem in the future.
The strategy is to put off into the future what the mind cannot presently deal with; the image is of a tidal wave or tsunami or just a regular large wave, a surging rushing tower of water that threatens to overwhelm, crushing, pounding you against the rocks, but by the sheer force of your own psychic energy and the making of to-do lists and the careful checking off of items on this list, you keep this boiling mass at bay.
You push into the future what cannot be fully accepted right now. And so the future seems to be full, already, of things that you know what they are, even though you intuitively know that you cannot know what the things in the future are gonna be.
The future starts far enough ahead of you along the timeline of your life to allow yourself space and time to breathe, however shallowly. You stay in the shallow end and away from the deep, where your feet slip and the water begins to go over your head, arms moving but not swimming per se, legs searching for purchase.
The total enlightenment of panic, the total realization that everything is not going to be ok. You know it's probably false but it has that absolute absorptive quality, enormous.