the journey of fear
i don't understand why i'm so fearful all the time. my entire life an entrenched, entangled, all-pervasive fear has held me in its grip. where did it come from? it has always been. there has never been a moment in my life as i became conscious of myself as a living being separate from my mother and my father that i didn't fear, what i don't know.
when i was in elementary school, i was terrified that i would go insane. i saw myself perched on the edge of a tall fence, one leg in insanity, one in sanity. i leaned more toward the sane side, but all someone had to do was push me slightly toward insanity, and there i would go, tumbling into insanity, lost forever in an abyss of twisted and dark energy. what child spends her childhood strangled in a terror of going insane?
it makes me wonder who i am. am i real? am i insane? there are two parts to me, which became apparent to me when i was a teenager and more so as an adult. one part wants to die, the other to live. i have been suicidal since i was 17. i fight this urge, this want constantly, but the part that wants to live fights with a power that amazes me. several years ago, i was in a medical office with the door shut and two medical personnel in the room with me. when the woman said three words to me -- you have cancer -- i thought i would jump up for joy and yell, hallelujah now i can leave this earth, this enervating fear i carry and go to a peaceful place for eternity. but what i felt instead, from way down deep inside me, an incredible force that bellowed "oh yeah, we're gonna fight this." and so i did, and so far i've won. so, i confuse myself. am i strong? am i weak?
cancer fight notwithstanding, no matter how many positive energy books i read, i can't seem to dissipate this unearthly fear that lives within me like it thinks it's my best friend, like it thinks i am its home. i have posted on my front door as i leave a line from the x ambassadors' song 'renegades' -- go forth and have no fear. it doesn't work. i just go forth (in fear) because someone has to pay the rent and buy the food, and that person is me. i want to "run wild and free" like i did when i was 16. i want to stand in the middle of the library staff floor and scream and scream because i hate all the petty rules and regulations that make me feel like i'm back in catholic school and every time i turn around i'm panic-stricken i'm going to go the hell if i die before i've had the chance to confess all the horrible sins a child can commit. did you know i once ate meat on a friday and i couldn't sleep for fear that if i died on the weekend before i could confess my dastardly sin on Sunday morning before mass it was the fires of hell for little 7-year-old me?
it sounds like this is where my raw fear comes from, but i think it swallowed me long before i stumbled through the authoritative world of the catholic religion. i've had brief periods in my life where the fear was silent, like when i was 15-17 and 18-22. after that, let's just say i've managed to stay alive. sometimes i think that's why god sends me stray animals that need help, to keep me breathing, walking, living. my entire adult life i've been saving homeless and hungry cats and dogs (and one raccoon), some of whom were abused and broken like Charley, a black and white cat who was terrified of brooms and newspapers, and Wiley Boone, a terrier mix dog found on the streets, lost, bleeding, and filthy.
i have always run away from being a writer. i dabbled in it as a profession for a variety of organizations, but i gave away the dream of being an accomplished novelist and poet when i realized i had to make a living. how do you pay the rent when no one knows who you are and you're writing a novel? so i ran and bounced from one workplace to another, from one residence to another, from one man to another. maybe i perpetrate my own fear because i won't own up to who i really am down deep in the soul. maybe my life started out in fear because my parents were at war with each other throughout my entire life and that is never a safe place for a child. maybe my fear of never being safe was compounded by not feeling loved because there is sure not a lot of affection going on when two people are always at odds with each other. maybe my fear stays because i let the world, the workplace, other people tell me who i am.
a colleague at work who is going through some tough times of her own suggested that i start writing. just do it. and i thought, as some very wise people have said, if not now, when? so i went right out last week or so and set up a website through wordpress that just showcases my short fiction, poetry, and other non-blog writings. it's a beginning. maybe the fear will slide away or, if not, become a force like a wild stallion running like the wind in a valley of green grass. maybe i will win this fight at last.
when i was in elementary school, i was terrified that i would go insane. i saw myself perched on the edge of a tall fence, one leg in insanity, one in sanity. i leaned more toward the sane side, but all someone had to do was push me slightly toward insanity, and there i would go, tumbling into insanity, lost forever in an abyss of twisted and dark energy. what child spends her childhood strangled in a terror of going insane?
it makes me wonder who i am. am i real? am i insane? there are two parts to me, which became apparent to me when i was a teenager and more so as an adult. one part wants to die, the other to live. i have been suicidal since i was 17. i fight this urge, this want constantly, but the part that wants to live fights with a power that amazes me. several years ago, i was in a medical office with the door shut and two medical personnel in the room with me. when the woman said three words to me -- you have cancer -- i thought i would jump up for joy and yell, hallelujah now i can leave this earth, this enervating fear i carry and go to a peaceful place for eternity. but what i felt instead, from way down deep inside me, an incredible force that bellowed "oh yeah, we're gonna fight this." and so i did, and so far i've won. so, i confuse myself. am i strong? am i weak?
cancer fight notwithstanding, no matter how many positive energy books i read, i can't seem to dissipate this unearthly fear that lives within me like it thinks it's my best friend, like it thinks i am its home. i have posted on my front door as i leave a line from the x ambassadors' song 'renegades' -- go forth and have no fear. it doesn't work. i just go forth (in fear) because someone has to pay the rent and buy the food, and that person is me. i want to "run wild and free" like i did when i was 16. i want to stand in the middle of the library staff floor and scream and scream because i hate all the petty rules and regulations that make me feel like i'm back in catholic school and every time i turn around i'm panic-stricken i'm going to go the hell if i die before i've had the chance to confess all the horrible sins a child can commit. did you know i once ate meat on a friday and i couldn't sleep for fear that if i died on the weekend before i could confess my dastardly sin on Sunday morning before mass it was the fires of hell for little 7-year-old me?
it sounds like this is where my raw fear comes from, but i think it swallowed me long before i stumbled through the authoritative world of the catholic religion. i've had brief periods in my life where the fear was silent, like when i was 15-17 and 18-22. after that, let's just say i've managed to stay alive. sometimes i think that's why god sends me stray animals that need help, to keep me breathing, walking, living. my entire adult life i've been saving homeless and hungry cats and dogs (and one raccoon), some of whom were abused and broken like Charley, a black and white cat who was terrified of brooms and newspapers, and Wiley Boone, a terrier mix dog found on the streets, lost, bleeding, and filthy.
i have always run away from being a writer. i dabbled in it as a profession for a variety of organizations, but i gave away the dream of being an accomplished novelist and poet when i realized i had to make a living. how do you pay the rent when no one knows who you are and you're writing a novel? so i ran and bounced from one workplace to another, from one residence to another, from one man to another. maybe i perpetrate my own fear because i won't own up to who i really am down deep in the soul. maybe my life started out in fear because my parents were at war with each other throughout my entire life and that is never a safe place for a child. maybe my fear of never being safe was compounded by not feeling loved because there is sure not a lot of affection going on when two people are always at odds with each other. maybe my fear stays because i let the world, the workplace, other people tell me who i am.
a colleague at work who is going through some tough times of her own suggested that i start writing. just do it. and i thought, as some very wise people have said, if not now, when? so i went right out last week or so and set up a website through wordpress that just showcases my short fiction, poetry, and other non-blog writings. it's a beginning. maybe the fear will slide away or, if not, become a force like a wild stallion running like the wind in a valley of green grass. maybe i will win this fight at last.
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| image stolen from the internet |
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