Fear
I am afraid of the future, but I am hiding that fear. It comes and goes. Tonight, in the dark, as I lay in bed, it sits with me and grows like a mushroom in a cave: silent, steady, unseen.
I cannot prepare for the things I fear most. I have to await their sudden arrival. (Loss of work, housing, support, more, etc.) I see small signs of the difficult days ahead that I can't avoid, and feel the worry that maybe I bought these consequences with foolish choices in the past, my lack of preparation. Perhaps, I wove this path of destruction by not being resilient, by being unassertive, by making easy wrong choices. I should have studied harder, become a doctor or professor. I could have bought a house, or been a father. Instead, I sacrifice days to worry, hoping for reprieve against constant uncertainty.
Life, at least my old age part of life, is something that will have to be endured.
Small irrational hopes, like lottery tickets, promise a release of this fear, but I can't hold on to those hopes for very long. I can't believe in them. Instead, I look to distraction in order to help me avoid feeling that fear for too long. It's a weird "enjoy the moment" kind of avoidance that seems positive to those who are secure in ways they take for granted, and absurd to those who know better.
I try to kindle the small flame of hope by trusting to mercy, compassion for myself, while I flee towards knowledge and wisdom wherever I can find it. Comfort is elusive, but insight is a healer.
18 August 2024
Comments:
Post a Comment
