If you know me at all then you know that I am one of those overly (annoying) optimistic people. Everything will be fine. It will all work out. Good things come to those who wait. Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord. Wait. That last one may not fit.
The thing is, I’m not wired to be a Worrier. I know people that spin endlessly on what-ifs and whatnot and I while I do not judge them for it, I simply cannot relate. As one who crams as much as she can (And more!) into every day I don’t see how worrying about what may (possibly) happen if this thing occurs and that thing comes to be and, oh! My head hurts.
It’s not like I don’t have cause to join the ranks of the Worriers. I have a perfectly healthy family. Our parents are all alive. Cancer hasn’t hit a single person in our circle of family or friends. There has not been a tragedy with anyone close to us. The proverbial shoe is probably waiting to land square on my head in an attempt to squash my optimism. And yet, I refuse to waste the time spinning on the possibility of something that may never come to be.
This past weekend my kids told me that there was a Black Widow spider in our yard and I didn’t take them completely seriously. Until I walked over, camera in hand, and captured the fair maiden in all of her glory.
I wasn’t scared at all. It’s a bug. OK, fine, an arachnid. But the kids were shaking so Daddy took care of the threat. R.I.P. Ms. Widow.
It got me thinking about what I am truly afraid of.
I am afraid that I will outlive my kids or Matthew. Every time (EVERY TIME) I travel I have horrible visions of me leaving them behind or of them perishing in my absence.
I am afraid of being alone when Matthew is out of town. I check the locks fifty times before I turn in and startle awake at every creak and groan of the house. I worry that someone (or something) will enter my home uninvited.
I am afraid that I will get to the end of my life and not make the impact on people that I want to. That I will not hear, “Well done”.
I am afraid to fail. At work, at love, as a friend, at life. Having someone disappointed in me is the equivalent of having a spear pierce my heart and knock me to the ground.
Clowns. Clowns are creepy and horrible and I once saw one driving a truck with a cigarette hanging out if his mouth and, well. Twelve years later I am still scarred.
So tell me, dear friends. What are you afraid of?