My not so pet monster.
The one that doesn't even bother to hide under the bed anymore but rather wanders around everywhere with me, lurking, waiting...
What would my life be like if I could live without fear?
I've listened to the enlightened ones. I do the meditations. I've spent countless hours in therapy trying to work through the issues and emotions and happenings that cause me to react to this world with fear. My well worn copy of Susan Jeffers "Feel the Fear and do it Anyway", lives by my bed. And yet still, in the wee hours of the morning, I wake in fright. And terror. My imaginings run rampant and I cower beneath the covers wishing for the dawn.
At least then the monster can go run round the back yard...
I've been pouring my energy into recreating the landscape. With a lot of help of course. The FMS cripples me regularly and so I have reached out to and met lots of lovely local folk who are so helpful and so supportive - I am so grateful. The sense of community here is encompassing - the soul that was missing in Melbourne is here so strongly and I am feeling gently supported as I build my fledgling networks. People are willing to swap services too! So I have been able to swap my experience and abilities for gardening and building and other heavy duty labouring. Wish the plumber and the electrician swapped though LOL! Nearly had kittens when those bills came in! But at least the house doesn't leak any more.
It's when the deep depression kicks in that I find myself immobile. Paralysed. Unable to go outside and face the day. Unwilling to look at the monsters that haunt my mind. That's when they come out to play and inundate me with horror.
I'm scared so much of the time. I'm afraid of so much.
I try not to let them stop me, those fears. I got on that plane and I went on the trip of a lifetime last year. I did it with the support, love and friendship of so many people. I am so grateful.
When faced with the real possibility of having to live in substandard expensive private rentals I managed to find somewhere I could afford to live and a community that has a deep and powerful expression of social justice and spirit - and rocks. Oh how I love the rocks! I managed to find my own place, albeit so far from the ones I love.
And now, with family critically ill and my best friend fighting the fight of his life so far from me, I find the fear growing daily.
I'm frightened I won't be there for them when they need me.
I'm scared I'll be unable to manage, financially, on my own.
I'm so afraid I'll live the rest of my life alone without love.
I'm scared I'll lose my house.
I'm scared I'll be forgotten.
And underneath all that fear is the one underlying thing: I'm scared it will all be taken away from me - again. Over and over again the things I love have been taken away from me and I feel this is my punishment, my lot in life so to speak. In the same breath, I know that is not true. That this IS life. That this IS living. That in living, there is loss and dying and people leaving and letting go.
I know this.
I just wish I wasn't so fucking afraid.
Love and Blessings and Deep Gratitude on this grey, foggy June morning.