Fear
Everyone has them and we are all so different and so similar.
I don't have many fears. I'm not afraid of heights. I'm not claustrophobic. Public speaking doesn't worry me. I'm not afraid of mice or spiders.
As I've grown older, I have developed strong dislikes, but I would not call them fears. I strongly dislike large gatherings or crowds. My palate has grown pickier. I developed a strong dislike for wine for some odd reason. It just started to taste off to me. I used to be a smoker, but now I can hardly stand the smell of smoke, unless it's weed. I enjoy that scent very much.
I've only had three crippling fears in my lifetime. 1) I have always had a fear of drowning or smothering. I know how to swim, so it isn't because I can't swim. I think it was probably childhood asthma. Not being able to breathe has always terrified me. 2) I have a fear of being trapped or tied down. I am not fun to be with during a blizzard. Being trapped inside a house, even a warm one, makes me almost wild with the need to GET OUT. During all of my chemo and arsenic treatments, my worst times were when I had my arm tethered to an IV and when I was confined to a hospital bed. When they both happened simultaneously, I was miserable. 3) I have always had a fear of ending up a bag lady. Which is ludicrous since I have never been remotely in a situation where that could happen. Call it a past life fear. I do. No explanation for it.
Now, I have one more to add to add to the list.
4) I am afraid that I will not be able to find the white light after I die. If there is one. I am not a religious person. I was raised in an extremely devout Catholic family, but as early as the age of seven, I began to question things around me. My best friend was a Protestant and when my mother told me that God liked Catholics more than Protestants, I found that ridiculous. I never said this, of course. Questioning ANY aspect of our religion was simply not done in my home.
Later, when I got to college, I discovered that I was in love with research. I adored taking a topic or an idea and following it back to its source, figuring out all aspects of it. My research papers were well received and wordy. I began to research Catholicism and was troubled by many aspects of it. I found that I enjoyed reading anything by the Jesuits, mostly because they welcomed questioning hearts, even assured me that God loved questioning hearts because curiosity begat intelligence. That God did not want blind followers. It was the history of the church that troubled me. All those popes with their mistresses and children. I was especially interested in reclusive monks and their writings. I read the Rule of St.Benedict with great interest.
The more I read, the more I realized that I did not want to be a part of this church. I loved the feeling of belonging to a community, enjoyed the mass, but I could not be a part of a church that condemned homosexuality, premarital sex, women priests, or a woman's right to make decisions regarding her own body.
I found that I do not miss the church. At all. And that left me so many other ways to think and believe. I have struggled with my belief in God. In the end, I decided that I do think there is a God. I just do not see him/her/it as an entity that decides my fate. I have been in many situations where I felt hopeless and alone and many, many times, I have felt a presence with me. A loving, kind embracing. I know in my heart that there is something out there greater than myself. Be it a being, a goodness, a force...I don't know. I do believe it is there.
I have also seen ghosts. I know that they exist. And I do not know why. I guess I understand why some do. Soldiers who died young. Someone killed violently. But, what of others? What of the woman who haunted the house I now live in? She appeared to both T and me several times and sometimes with a purpose. We only saw her when our home was in need of some repair that we had not discovered yet. A shower that was leaking into our crawl space, etc. When we first moved in, we occasionally saw her standing on our back deck, looking out into our big yard. Our neighbor caught a glimpse of her once, too. Nine years later, we realized that we hadn't seen her in a while and haven't seen her once since. She never seemed to want to scare us. In the case of the shower problem, T just witnessed her standing next to our crawl space and pointing at it.
Why did she stay? Or was she just visiting from time to time?
I have never seen my dead Father. I have felt his presence many times, but never seen his ghost. Yet, there are books to be found easily on ghosts and poltergeists. What keeps them coming back and why?
I am terrible with directions. I have never been a designated map reader (this was before GPS) because I was sure to get you lost. I have lived in the same city for decades and still get lost regularly.
How in the world am I going to navigate Eternity?
It would be so typical of me to be the one who gets lost. And I don't want that to happen. I want to be the one who dies in my sleep peacefully before I have to go through the hell of chemo or radiation again. I want to see a white light, follow it, and see my Dad, my Mother, all of my kin and friends who have gone before me and we can all have a big hootenanny. Lots of dancing without sore legs or loss of balance. Eating cake with no fear of a diabetic coma. Lots and lots of catching up.
I was watching when you and T got married. I was so glad you found each other.
I'm sorry we knocked heads so much. I wish I had known then what I know now.
Remember that blizzardy Christmas when you and T got stranded in Denver? We were all remembering snow.
Do you remember my Mother, Irma? Of course, you don't. She passed before you were born. Irma, come meet your grandchild!
I was there all those times when you stood up to racism. I was proud of my little girl. I tried so hard to teach you that before I had to leave. And you remembered all of the constellations that I taught you! I was there when you would look up at Orion and yell, "I miss you, Dad!" at the sky. I yelled back that I missed you, too.
In my mind, I come home and it is a party. I know that I have some amending to do, too. I did not lead a perfect life, but you know what? I can honestly say that I don't think I was ever intentionally cruel to anyone. I raised my children to the best of my ability and they are all incredibly good people. I think that I had something big to do with that.
I failed a lot, too. I did not always do the right thing. I will have to make up for that.
Or at least....I think so. I have an atheist friend who believes that when you die, the jig is up. That is it. I don't think I buy that. But, we just don't really know, do we?
My biggest fear is still that I will turn left instead of right and miss where I am supposed to be and thus end up going back to earth because I don't know where else to go.
Silly? Maybe. I do know that I want to die with a clean heart. This does not mean that I want to go to confession or get the last rites (although I have instructed T that if my devoutly Catholic family asks for it, to let them go ahead and order it....anything that comforts is good. Can't hurt. Might help.)
I want to die knowing that I didn't see harm to anyone and just turn the cheek. I want to be in this resistance and fight. I want S, C, and L's grandchildren to know what a real tree looks like. What an ocean wave feels like. What seasons are. I want to see the madman in office gone. I want all of those creeps who now feel free to come out of their dark places brandishing guns and sick minds to slither back into them.
I can't fix everything. I am just an old fat lady. But, I want to die on my feet with my fist in the air. If that sounds pompous, fuck you.
Shit. I wonder if you have to pay for cursing on the other side? I'm guessing no. Some of the best and brightest people I know have sailor mouths.
If I can't die on my feet with my fist in the air, I would like to die peacefully in my sleep, please.
And if there are guides, please send me a few.
Maybe Virginia Wolfe, Oscar Wilde, and Robin Williams?
I don't have many fears. I'm not afraid of heights. I'm not claustrophobic. Public speaking doesn't worry me. I'm not afraid of mice or spiders.
As I've grown older, I have developed strong dislikes, but I would not call them fears. I strongly dislike large gatherings or crowds. My palate has grown pickier. I developed a strong dislike for wine for some odd reason. It just started to taste off to me. I used to be a smoker, but now I can hardly stand the smell of smoke, unless it's weed. I enjoy that scent very much.
I've only had three crippling fears in my lifetime. 1) I have always had a fear of drowning or smothering. I know how to swim, so it isn't because I can't swim. I think it was probably childhood asthma. Not being able to breathe has always terrified me. 2) I have a fear of being trapped or tied down. I am not fun to be with during a blizzard. Being trapped inside a house, even a warm one, makes me almost wild with the need to GET OUT. During all of my chemo and arsenic treatments, my worst times were when I had my arm tethered to an IV and when I was confined to a hospital bed. When they both happened simultaneously, I was miserable. 3) I have always had a fear of ending up a bag lady. Which is ludicrous since I have never been remotely in a situation where that could happen. Call it a past life fear. I do. No explanation for it.
Now, I have one more to add to add to the list.
4) I am afraid that I will not be able to find the white light after I die. If there is one. I am not a religious person. I was raised in an extremely devout Catholic family, but as early as the age of seven, I began to question things around me. My best friend was a Protestant and when my mother told me that God liked Catholics more than Protestants, I found that ridiculous. I never said this, of course. Questioning ANY aspect of our religion was simply not done in my home.
Later, when I got to college, I discovered that I was in love with research. I adored taking a topic or an idea and following it back to its source, figuring out all aspects of it. My research papers were well received and wordy. I began to research Catholicism and was troubled by many aspects of it. I found that I enjoyed reading anything by the Jesuits, mostly because they welcomed questioning hearts, even assured me that God loved questioning hearts because curiosity begat intelligence. That God did not want blind followers. It was the history of the church that troubled me. All those popes with their mistresses and children. I was especially interested in reclusive monks and their writings. I read the Rule of St.Benedict with great interest.
The more I read, the more I realized that I did not want to be a part of this church. I loved the feeling of belonging to a community, enjoyed the mass, but I could not be a part of a church that condemned homosexuality, premarital sex, women priests, or a woman's right to make decisions regarding her own body.
I found that I do not miss the church. At all. And that left me so many other ways to think and believe. I have struggled with my belief in God. In the end, I decided that I do think there is a God. I just do not see him/her/it as an entity that decides my fate. I have been in many situations where I felt hopeless and alone and many, many times, I have felt a presence with me. A loving, kind embracing. I know in my heart that there is something out there greater than myself. Be it a being, a goodness, a force...I don't know. I do believe it is there.
I have also seen ghosts. I know that they exist. And I do not know why. I guess I understand why some do. Soldiers who died young. Someone killed violently. But, what of others? What of the woman who haunted the house I now live in? She appeared to both T and me several times and sometimes with a purpose. We only saw her when our home was in need of some repair that we had not discovered yet. A shower that was leaking into our crawl space, etc. When we first moved in, we occasionally saw her standing on our back deck, looking out into our big yard. Our neighbor caught a glimpse of her once, too. Nine years later, we realized that we hadn't seen her in a while and haven't seen her once since. She never seemed to want to scare us. In the case of the shower problem, T just witnessed her standing next to our crawl space and pointing at it.
Why did she stay? Or was she just visiting from time to time?
I have never seen my dead Father. I have felt his presence many times, but never seen his ghost. Yet, there are books to be found easily on ghosts and poltergeists. What keeps them coming back and why?
I am terrible with directions. I have never been a designated map reader (this was before GPS) because I was sure to get you lost. I have lived in the same city for decades and still get lost regularly.
How in the world am I going to navigate Eternity?
It would be so typical of me to be the one who gets lost. And I don't want that to happen. I want to be the one who dies in my sleep peacefully before I have to go through the hell of chemo or radiation again. I want to see a white light, follow it, and see my Dad, my Mother, all of my kin and friends who have gone before me and we can all have a big hootenanny. Lots of dancing without sore legs or loss of balance. Eating cake with no fear of a diabetic coma. Lots and lots of catching up.
I was watching when you and T got married. I was so glad you found each other.
I'm sorry we knocked heads so much. I wish I had known then what I know now.
Remember that blizzardy Christmas when you and T got stranded in Denver? We were all remembering snow.
Do you remember my Mother, Irma? Of course, you don't. She passed before you were born. Irma, come meet your grandchild!
I was there all those times when you stood up to racism. I was proud of my little girl. I tried so hard to teach you that before I had to leave. And you remembered all of the constellations that I taught you! I was there when you would look up at Orion and yell, "I miss you, Dad!" at the sky. I yelled back that I missed you, too.
In my mind, I come home and it is a party. I know that I have some amending to do, too. I did not lead a perfect life, but you know what? I can honestly say that I don't think I was ever intentionally cruel to anyone. I raised my children to the best of my ability and they are all incredibly good people. I think that I had something big to do with that.
I failed a lot, too. I did not always do the right thing. I will have to make up for that.
Or at least....I think so. I have an atheist friend who believes that when you die, the jig is up. That is it. I don't think I buy that. But, we just don't really know, do we?
My biggest fear is still that I will turn left instead of right and miss where I am supposed to be and thus end up going back to earth because I don't know where else to go.
Silly? Maybe. I do know that I want to die with a clean heart. This does not mean that I want to go to confession or get the last rites (although I have instructed T that if my devoutly Catholic family asks for it, to let them go ahead and order it....anything that comforts is good. Can't hurt. Might help.)
I want to die knowing that I didn't see harm to anyone and just turn the cheek. I want to be in this resistance and fight. I want S, C, and L's grandchildren to know what a real tree looks like. What an ocean wave feels like. What seasons are. I want to see the madman in office gone. I want all of those creeps who now feel free to come out of their dark places brandishing guns and sick minds to slither back into them.
I can't fix everything. I am just an old fat lady. But, I want to die on my feet with my fist in the air. If that sounds pompous, fuck you.
Shit. I wonder if you have to pay for cursing on the other side? I'm guessing no. Some of the best and brightest people I know have sailor mouths.
If I can't die on my feet with my fist in the air, I would like to die peacefully in my sleep, please.
And if there are guides, please send me a few.
Maybe Virginia Wolfe, Oscar Wilde, and Robin Williams?
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