Facing your fears

"What you fear most of all is- fear." J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

About a month ago, someone called me brave. I've been thinking about that word ever since. Brave. While I truly appreciate the comment/compliment, I have a secret. Something that I've really never told anyone. I'm afraid. Afraid of everything. Yep. And I'm not talking about the typical things, like spiders, heights, and water. Ok, I am, because those three things complete terrify me. I'm talking about things that most people probably don't understand.

I'm afraid of dying. Not dying, in general. But dying before my children. I'm sure that every parent thinks about it. Most probably prepare for it. I don't even know where to start preparing. Who is going to take care of my kids? They can't care for themselves. Jordan requires 24 hour care. I'm already his legal guardian. In two years, I'll have to do the same for Brett. We can't leave them money in our will, we have to put it into a trust. Who will be in charge of it? Who will be in charge of them? What will happen after I'm gone? How will they feel? How will they function? Will they be heart broken? Will it even phase them?

I'm afraid of Alzheimer's. I watched my Mother develop it. I watched it take over her brain. I watched her die from it. My Mother's mother had it. She lived with us when I was younger. I didn't know what it was then, but I know I was scared of her. I was in elementary school, maybe nine years old. She said crazy stuff and did crazy things. Nobody tells kids anything.  It is the scariest thing I've ever seen. I can't begin to imagine how scary it is to feel yourself slip away. Forget the little things. And then forget the big things. Where you live, who you are, who your children are...I would sooner die than live that way.

I'm afraid of cancer. I watched it devour my enormous Father's body. Watched him literally shrink and waste away to a shell of the man he once was. He developed dementia. The police would bring him home, because he walked to the store but couldn't remember where he lived, or how to get there.   My aunt and uncle, my Mother's sister and brother, both died of colon cancer. I had my first colonoscopy at age 38. They removed three polyps. I had my second one in December. They removed one. I'm on the three year plan, because of my young age and my family history. Will I ever have a 'normal' colonoscopy? The prep is bad enough. The wait for the results is even worse.

The last two bring me back to the first one. It's a weird circle that my crazy brain keeps looping around every single day. It's like being on a merry go round, and not being able to get off. I'd say a ferris wheel, but I'm afraid of those.

"Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts"- Winston Churchill
Here's the thing. I'm afraid of failing. I'm terrified of being a failure. I constantly think that I'm not good enough. At anything. At everything. Every day, I look in the mirror and hate who I see. I wish I knew how to be better. A better mother, better wife, better friend, better person. There are some very deep seeded issues here, some things were instilled in me as a young child, some as a teenager, some as a young adult, some things as a grown woman.  No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to change things. I beat myself up. I break myself down. I am my own worst enemy. But every day, I have to stuff these crazy thoughts to the back of my brain and be strong. For my kids, and for my husband. They will always come first.

Relating a bit to the last, is perhaps a selfish fear I have. I'm sure I will receive some criticism for this one. I would apologize, but this is MY fear. I shouldn't have to be sorry.  So, here goes...I'm afraid that this is it. That this is going to be the best that it gets. I will never be anything. Yes, I'm someone's mother. And I understand that there are men and women out there that want to be parents and can't. I know that there are people that want to be parents, and the situation hasn't been right for them. I know there are people out there that have no desire to procreate. But for me, knowing that all I'm ever going to be is a mother? It's heartbreaking. I have a Batchelor's degree that I have never used. I've worked in crappy paying part time jobs since high school. I had to quit working to help take care of my Mom, and knew when Jordan finished school, I'd never work again. There are days when I'm okay with that, like yesterday when I was looking at March's calendar, and I realized how crazy it will be. But there are also days when the thought of living like this forever gives me a panic attack.

These things whirl around in my obsessive-compulsive brain all day. Every day. It keeps me awake at night. These fears make me feel like a fraud. Like I've been keeping secrets. Like I'm not the person you thought I was all this time. Like I'm not good enough. (Look, there's that one again).  I have meds to boost me up, and meds to bring me down.  And I can't get through a day without them. Well, I could. But I shouldn't.

This is just a start. I'm sure I will unveil more at a later date. But for now, this was cathartic enough. It's like bleeding your wounds clean. I just wish they would start to heal.