Friday, April 22, 2011

Dear Fear,

Dear You,

Yeah, You. Over there. Hiding in the corner. Lurking in the shadows of my heart, trying relentlessly to creep into my mind with every passing second.

From the depths you trickle up, terrifying me to send Trey to work. "He's not going to come home. There will be a fire tonight that will burn your life together, and it will never be the same," you say.

I watch Ryanne play in the yard, and you're there blowing your deep, raspy breaths into my ear. "She's going to fall and hurt herself." you suggest. "What if she has a deadly disease and you don't even know? What kind of mom does that make you?" echoes through my mind.

As the three of us drive down the highway, I see your devil horns in the rear view mirror tempting me to give in. "That semi is going to whisk them both away as quickly as they were given to you." Your hollow icy voices hangs in my mind.

You want me to fear each breath we take, to fear in every instant that those breaths could be ripped away. Your cologne of misery hangs in the air, and your cape of fear encompasses me at times.

Let me just tell you: I will make this request only once before it gets ugly. Go away!

Get your rigid voice and the horrid thoughts that accompany them out of my head.

Life is too precious to worry about the what ifs with each passing moment.

You linger closely by and keep me from truly enjoying the time I do have with my loved ones, and for that I will be eternally resentful.

Consider this your legal notification of divorce.

I'm keeping my husband though, and Ryanne of course. I'm also going to have custody of all the children, pets, and moments of our future. I'm not sharing custody of my joy any longer.

You can sign over the papers that control my thoughts.

You, however, can take with you those eery moments that so often have consumed my mind. Take that hollow emptiness of a soul and go.

You can have the fear, the doubt, and the worry.

I don't ever want to see you again. Farewell, my foe.

This post was written in response to The Red Dress Club's prompt this week. "Write a letter to your deepest, darkest fear." As always, constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated. 


Erin said...

I have those thoughts too!
So well done!

Carrie said...

There was a story in our local paper: a young man was tragically killed by a cement truck. He was driving home to take his wife and newborn son to the doctor...

You just never know. Living life to the fullest is key.

I hope your letter does the trick and banishes those thoughts away

Teresa said...

Great letter...hope it works! :)

Mel said...

I think most moms can relate to this fear at least a little. I liked how you talked about having "custody" of future moments. Nice.

Galit Breen said...

I know this fear all too well. Something s good, so precious *must* be fleeting.

I loved the notion of divorce, but keeping custody of your life and heart.

Kelly said...

I didn't develop these fears until I had children and then the thought of being responsible for another life was sometimes quite overwhelming.

Good advice to let fear go and live in the moment.

Ratz said...

"I'm also going to have custody of all the children, pets, and moments of our future. I'm not sharing custody of my joy any longer." Loved these lines. They are the desperate attempt to keep floating on and the decision that from now onwards, you will be the master. Nice work.

Andrea (ace1028) said...

This and this:

You want me to fear each breath we take, to fear in every instant that those breaths could be ripped away.

Your hollow icy voices hangs in my mind.

Two of the best sentences. Loved this post. I, too, have the anxieties. Enough is enough. We should not have fears like this that take over control of our minds. Good for you for facing it head on and shoving it forcefully on its way.

Well done.

Cheryl said...

That fear? Never goes away. That's not an entirely bad thing. It makes us take care, and reminds us to live in the moment.

Mommylebron (aka Amanda) said...

This is a very relate-able fear. What ifs. what could bring s to mind that saying "When you protect them from everything, you protect them from *everything*." We can't hide from life.
Great job.

Anonymous said...

Your letter is very descritive. You really drew me into your fear. So much so that reading it gave me the chills and the impulsive urge to check on my own daugther. Thank you for a great post.


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