What Are You Afraid Of?
I feel like I’m in my attic digging around, searching for something ominous that keeps lingering, hovering and pestering at a distance. The attic itself is really my favorite place to be. It’s old, but an overall antique in itself. It’s full of treasures, memories, mysteries and new things to discover. There are treasure chests and hidden keepsakes. I don’t hold onto a lot in life, but this attic holds it all. If quiet, cherished conversations could be put in a bottle, those bottles would be found in this attic. They’d be tucked away on an old wooden shelf, glowing like tiny fireflies full of well-kept secrets. But lately, I feel like I’ve been noticing a trailing.
There are foot prints I recognize, but they aren’t my own. It’s a familiar feeling, but not welcome. It gives me the chills, like a stranger that’s getting too close because they’re just familiar enough to do so, but something isn’t right. Honestly, I think I could run forever before trying to find whatever this is. But I’m hunkering down to uncover this dreadful creature that keeps leaving things open and disarrayed.
It’s good to be self-aware, to recognize when fear has taken territory in your heart. To admit it has been there awhile even. To realize that what you thought was safe, isn’t safe anymore and wasn’t ever meant to be relied on for safety. It’s good to recognize when fear is beginning to reside where your dreams should be. So now, I’m searching for the source of my fears, which (I’ll hint) goes really deep.
Where is the fear? That awful stench of puddle and darkness, of rot and halting, of angst and ugly scales, of peeling that won’t peel off and so you’re afraid of looking in the mirror. Afraid of what you might see -- dirty ankles from running and tear stained cheeks from hiding. Hey, I see you and you’re not those ugly things. That’s your fear talking too loudly, covering your eyes and turning off the light while you’re still in the room.
I see you because you are me and I am you. Fear is natural and yet it is most definitely not meant to be lived with. You are not your fears or your exposure. I am not living the nightmares in my head. Fear cannot take the place of our dreams. Even more so, fear should not define our life or experiences. Fear is a liar. It threatens, but it can’t touch.
That’s where I’m at this week. I’m pulling back curtains, cracking open some windows and letting the sun warm cold walls that need to stop shivering. It’s time to carefully dust away old cob webs and turn on some light music.
I’m digging a little deeper, letting myself feel a little more, and recognizing that I am not my feelings and fear does not define who I am or how I live.
