FEAR is our worst enemy. Fear of being let down, of letting people down, fear of loss, fear of failure. Fear of not being liked or accepted. Fear of picking the wrong one, marrying the wrong person. Fear of choosing the wrong job or of letting go of all you know to pursue your dreams. Fear of having unrealistic dreams. Fear is all-consuming, even when you don’t know you are afraid.
I have been spouting this whole “I wear my heart on my sleeve” thing. But I don’t. I’m closed off, i’m inside my head and i’m terribly afraid of admitting it. I am a hypocrite. I claim to have no fear left but I’m afraid to tell my family that i’m hurting. i’m afraid to tell my friends that no, this isn’t enough. no i’m not better regardless of how much better I seem. I am afraid to say that the bad days are worse even though they seem to be spread out and that even in genuine happiness there is a crippling sadness that has everything in its tight clasp.
I don’t say “writing this book is fucking hard” after they ask how writing is going. Or “I want to run away” when they ask what im planning to do for the rest of my life (or the next 5 years… or 6 months, or next week). I don’t tell them the severity of the pain that stabs at my chest every time I hear a baby/toddler/child cry. I don’t tell them that I don’t know how to be any more, that although I am starting to feel like myself I also don’t know how to navigate who I have become. I don’t tell them because when we are happy I want to be happy, when we are laughing I just want to laugh, but I also just want them to be happy and laugh too. I don’t speak it because sometimes I really am fine but sometimes i’m not, and I go back and forth so much its hard to keep track. I am afraid. I am afraid of bringing everyone down. I am afraid of my life not turning out the way I need it to. I am afraid of living, and afraid of not. of being inside of my head but also of the world outside of it, too. I don’t know how to say I want 16 thousand things and have 0 ideas of getting them. I don’t know how to say STOP TREATING ME LIKE I’M BROKEN or STOP TREATING ME LIKE I AM FINE, I AM BROKEN. I don’t know how to tell the difference. I don’t know what I need, who I need, where I need to be. I spend so much time convincing myself that i’m okay, that i’m where I need to be and doing what I need to do. but for what? to survive? to thrive? or just to make it till tomorrow? I feel stripped. I feel like im suppose to go back to being who I was before Lilee.. or harder still, who I was with her. I feel like i’m suppose to just push forward. I don’t want to push forward. I want to stand still but I want to keep moving. I want to feel but I want to be numb. I want to make connections but I want to be alone. How can I wear my heart on my sleeve when I don’t know my heart at all. How can I open up to people when I am so afraid to cry in front of them I actually think i’m incapable of it now. I am afraid to say I prefer it that way. I am afraid I have to be okay so that I can still have friends, and so that my family doesn’t commit me. Who would want to hang out with someone who can go from happy to destroyed in the blink of an eye. I don’t. I am afraid, one day, I wont be able to keep this up any more. I am afraid of the anniversary coming up and how im going to afford to find the ocean somewhere. I am afraid im doing it wrong. I am afraid I am suffocating in my grief.
Fear is my worst enemy.
But I don’t know how to let it go, I don’t know how to break down these walls because I am fine, and i’m also not. Because I am happier, and i’m also not. Because I can handle life right now, but I also can’t and because I am finding ways to cope and heal but i’m also completely and utterly lost. So I keep it to my self. my heart tucked into my chest, not displayed on my cardigan. and I go through the motions.
because I am fine.
fearfully hitting ‘publish’,
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