I have several irrational fears, for no reason: I’m afraid of cows in the road, I’m afraid of hitting a moose with my car, I’m afraid of car fires, I am terrified of the dentist, of flour clogging my kitchen sink, of spiders, of someone I’m close with dying before I’ve had the chance to thank them for all they’ve done, of being thirsty, and of dying. All of these things must be faced, I cannot avoid them. I’m now afraid to try new things alone, something I’ve never excelled with. I live in a new city, and I cannot bring myself to join a book club or any club. I tried to apply for a part time position, to regain a sense of community, to no avail. An attempt to volunteer, and I have heard nothing but silence from the program. I feel an outcast at times to my own age group, I bond best with the elderly, groaning over the way youth have become inundated with technology and obsession of never being out of reach. At times I am fearful because I feel utterly alone in this world– so far away from where I was born, and so far to go before I find my adult way in the world.
I am not afraid of failure; of trying; of chasing farfetched dreams; of trying new things; of being alone; of silence; of routine; of surprises; of sadness; of life. At times I am afraid of myself, for I am not who I was a year ago, nor am I the person I thought I would ever be. I am afraid, I am struggling, I am surviving– but am I living? For to live and to survive are two very different beasts.
It’s easy to be afraid, it’s easy to give in and avoid what any of us are afraid of. You are afraid of spiders or snakes, you are hesitant to camp; you are fearful of mobs, you avoid crowded malls; you are fearful of losing love, you never love; you are afraid of the dark, you keep a light on.
If there’s anything that’s the most understandable fear, it’s the fear of the dark. But even so, it isn’t the dark anyone is afraid of, it’s what in the dark that we cannot see. It is the unknown. The bump in the other room when we are laying beneath our sheets, the creaking of a wooden floor when we are certain we’re alone, or the dripping faucet as you watch shadows dance across your walls. It’s the fear to look, for how often do we throw back the covers, throw away caution, and open the door to investigate the cause of our fear. Too often we curl beneath the covers, reach for our phone, and comfort ourselves with our out, with our temporary answer, but never with satisfaction in facing our fears.
I’m unsure, now, where this meant to go. Perhaps I was hoping for something poignant, meaningful, and life altering. But now, I feel I’ve come up short. What I’ve come up short of, I’m not sure. All I know is that tonight, I will still fear everything as much as I did before. But maybe when I hear that creak when I’m watching a movie alone I won’t be afraid to turn around and ensure there is nothing there, and maybe I won’t be afraid when I lay alone in my bed to dash to the bathroom for a glass of water, maybe I’ll walk, and enjoy the cold air against my skin.
Or maybe I’ll convince myself, ourselves, that we aren’t that thirsty after all, and that what’s in the dark really can hurt us after all, whether or not it’s because of our own cowardice to investigate and cast off to sea or that we do find that monster in the dark sea.
