Death of Fear(ing)

It’s funny what fear does.  It makes us not want to try at all.  We get kept trapped thinking about what others might be thinking of us, judging us, feeling a little bit more self-conscience and guilty over and over again.  We secretly just want to keep wallowing in the dark alone, and we don’t want to be discovered.  We don’t want to get discovered because we’d be so embarrassed, if everybody, or somebody, or anybody found out our secrets.  Found out who we really are.  Or at least who we think we really are. 

It’s funny what we do to stay in fear.  We over and over again fall into bad habits, quick fixes to make us feel good.  I call it sin binging.  Knowing we’ve gone overboard, so we take it even further because we “might as well” or “we’re already gone this far.”  We tell ourselves, “just one more” saying and often lying to ourselves that we’ll be better tomorrow.

The air is a little bit colder, our emotions are a little more sensitive, we’re all of a sudden more defensive, and the smallest things agitate the hell out of us.  We stay in the shower a little bit longer because we just want to feel warm.  We just want to keep saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” not really sure who it’s to, probably to everybody, maybe to God.

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Fear makes me not want to go into detail with the fear of being exposed.  Fear makes me want to stop writing right now as I pause after every single sentence.  Fear makes me want to stop trying.

This is my experience of fear after the night of Halloween.  I hope I can find a way to let it die on this Day of the Dead.

Amén.