June 4th: What are you most afraid of, and why?
There’s been an air of anxiety hovering around me today. I think the rumination of this article has been raising the vibration of my fears. You know the ones… the irrational, relentless pop-up fears that come from the darker recesses of the mind.
I was visited by a few unwelcome fears at two o’clock in the morning last night, as if my mind could sense the trepidation of this topic. The ‘did I just hear a sound downstairs?’ scares. The ‘what was that noise?’ moments when I hold my breath to hear more clearly. The ‘did something just move in the corner of the room?’ shadows that emerge from the darkness.
Then, there are the health scares. Am I the only one who has foolishly Googled symptoms only to find that all roads lead to an impending expiry date?
But what I’m most afraid of…
I can’t write about.
Well, I can, but I won’t.
I don’t want to enter into a creative descriptive process in which I bring life to a thought that terrifies me to my core.
You see, back in 2015, a tiny little human arrived in my life and instantly taught me that I am not the centre of my universe anymore. She is. I can’t bring myself to write about this fear… but it involves my daughter not being here anymore. And I’m not going to imaginatively entertain that idea deeply enough to put any more words around it.
So, I’m going to tiptoe into another terror… the thought of leaving this life too soon. Actually, it’s the thought of leaving this life at all. The fear of the void. The idea of no afterlife after life. Is it too much to want the version of life where the film ‘Soul’ exists in the non-fiction category?
Since I was little, my mind could tie itself up in knots thinking about what dying would be like — the idea of not being, not knowing, not living. I was always fascinated when thinking about infinity too… the concept just blows my mind! But the idea of not being alive scares me.
I love life.
I’m enjoying it now more than ever.
But when I’m gone, I still want to be here. I realise as I write these words, it possibly sounds like the ramblings of my ego. But, it’s also about not leaving sadness behind me. I want to send signs to my daughter that she is still loved and I am always with her… in the breeze that twirls her hair, the dragonfly that flitters around her, the warmth that embraces her when sadness descends.
Key Message: Life is more precious than my words can ever express. I’m making the most of every moment. I hope you can too.