Fears

Everyone fears something.
From spiders to flying to dogs to cats to cars to spontaneous combustion.
The last one may be a little more out there but you can bet that it has happened.
How do I know this for sure?
For there is a warning label on my dryer that I should stand clear in case of spontaneous combustion.
To be honest that and drowning are the two worst ways I can imagine dying.
I can swim like a fish and all my fires are contained.
Was I once a witch?
I floated so they burned me?????
 
I have given voice to two fears this week.
And in doing so I am hoping that they will lose the power to continue to cause me grief.
 
#1-Crying when I watch T ride off on his bike to school.
Every day.
And I could not figure out why.
Finally last Monday after I got to work, having sat in the car crying, I asked myself:
Jay what is it that you fear? What is it that makes you cry when you see T ride off?
I am afraid that it is the last time I might see him.
As I write this I am teary eyed and not because I am worried any longer but the relief that I now know what the cause was and could deal with it.
Tuesday as we said good-bye I told T that I had gotten to the root cause of my crying and told him what it was.
Did not cry for the rest of the week.
 
#2-Having a real issue this year with aging.
I have never had a problem with the milestone ages I think I have mentioned this before.
But the off years 27/38/49 they have been hard.
I think about my age and the thoughts that rage through my mind:
-I wasted so much time under the influence
-I wasted time of T’s life being a drunk and stoned on pills.
-I hurt my son
-I am only now coming to life. (not like today but having left the ex and in finding my way on my own)
-I fear that I am not going to be around to see T grow up.
 
I am not ill.
Kidneys/Brain/Liver have all been tested and seen.
Nothing wrong with any of them.
Which leaves my heart.
Drugs.
Alcohol.
Cigarettes.
I can only begin to imagine the state of it.
 
I am not courting death.
I am not laying around bemoaning  the choices I made.
I take responsibility.
And overall I am totally healthy.
 
Yesterday I gave voice to my death fear.
Told M all about it as I sobbed.
She informed me that she too has thought of it.
And determined that due to K (her 3rd child and one of T’s best friends)  and her grandchildren that she is not allowed to die.
And by that extension I am not allowed to die because she cannot be responsible for both boys.
Her concern: her death will surely follow from the death stench of their farts.
 
I am putting my fears out there.
Not only speaking them aloud but setting them free in my writing.
With this step I am hoping that I can shake loose these feelings and go back to enjoying my life and time with T.
 
©Sept. 20/21
Picture is my own

A Living Hell

Recently someone I work with gave their two week notice.
Indicating that working in a place where a mask had to be worn during their shift was a living hell for them.
I was a little taken aback when I saw the notice.
And certainly happy that I had not been the one to have to accept her resignation because Jay’s smartass mouth would have certainly gone off without the brain participating.
 
I am not going to go into the reasons why I could have told her what a living hell really looks like.
K too was furious after reading it.
She was also happy to have not read it while said person was still in front of her or like me something would have been said.
Where I can get away with it to an extent now, she cannot.
As with myself K has gone through a lot in her life.
If she and I were to sit down and write out our histories most would think that only this much could happen to one person in a movie.
But it is not true.
These things can happen to people who live every day ordinary lives.
 
I think too it shows the entitlement of people these days.
 
In Afghanistan there is terror.
In Afghanistan there is death.
There are going to be beatings.
There are going to be public whippings.
There are going to be violent murders.
All of this is going to play out, washing the world’s plains in blood.
 
To me this is indicative of a living hell.
Living every second in terror.
Knowing that each breath you take may be your last.
Your children’s.
Your spouse’s.
I cannot even begin to imagine the agony of fear that the Afghan people are feeling because I will never have to live under that type of regime.
 
Residential schools and their perpetrators of a wealth of abuses.
Belittled for speaking your language.
Beaten for tears.
Sexualized for perverse beings who then discarded you like garbage.
Buried in unmarked graves for decades.
And to this day the catholic church has still failed to meet its monetary obligations.
It failed to meet the moral ones and continues to do so with the intricate dance of finger pointing and ‘doing all we can’ attitude.
 
More hell to be lived through.
Not for a year.
Not for ten.
Not for twenty.
But a lifetime of pain.
A lifetime of addiction and cycles of abuse that still continue to this day.
 
Life really needs to be put into perspective for some people.
 
©Aug. 25/21
Picture is my own