Afraid of the Dark

That morning I rolled over and looked at you. The sunlight peered its way in through the cracks in the shades, blinds, curtains...I can't even remember what adorned the windows to the bedroom. It doesn't matter. I watched you as you slept - still caught in the innocence and beauty of sleep and dreaming. Your eyelids flickered as your brain raced through whatever imagery I could only imagine you were witnessing behind closed eyes. And for that moment, what I had done was forgotten.

It must have been just a few minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. As my gaze was fixated on how beautiful you looked when you slept and the pureness of what would soon be a fresh start to the day, a new beginning, my mind raced through the hurt that would be caused if you ever found out. How could I have done this? What will happen next? I wanted so desperately for that moment to never end. If I stirred and you woke, this perfect uninterrupted bubble would be broken forever. I would never be able to patch the holes, mend the seams, or rebuild what would be lost. Those moments that you slept, just before your dreaming mind slowly eased you into consciousness, those moments were the beginning of the end. It was coming.

Flash forward.

We were walking and I was holding your hand. Our hands always seemed to fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. It sounds cliche, but there was a comfort in how they formed around each other. We talked a little about general topics - the day, new ideas, what to have for dinner, those random and seemingly unimportant things that in that moment were the most important words that could and did fill in impending void. And while our conversation was lighthearted and casual and my interactions with you comfortable and routine, I felt like a complete stranger in your presence. The person you were walking hand in hand with and talking to just as we always had, this person had something to tell you, but was frozen with fear to reveal with scathing honesty a story that would upset the delicate balance we had worked so hard for so long to create and maintain.

I noticed your smile and the way your hair fell around your face. The smell in the air on that beautiful day was refreshing and awoken my senses. Even while harboring my secret, I was able to enjoy this time with you and I felt as if my body had become saturated with every detail of that moment - you and your visually poetic movements, the air in all its sweetness and richness, the sounds of our feet on the pavement and the delicate crunch of the small pebbles and scattered smears of sand under our shoes, the cars passing by as they rushed away to unknown destinations, and the faint muddled conversations of other people we passed. I wondered if anyone else out that afternoon was also experiencing a similar comfortably surreal moment just as I was. This was my life here in this present moment, yet what I had done was also my life. The two just never met in front of you.

Flash forward.

I made up a story for you. It was one I thought you might like between the tears and heavy sobs, between the heartbreak and devastation, and between the helpless feeling of not having one ounce of control. Trust me, this was a good story. Had I told you a more factual story,...well, let's just be thankful I didn't. And honestly, it doesn't matter. I'm not sure it will ever matter. Not to you anyway. For me? Oh, it matters. It mattes alot, however, I've been able to tell this same story so many times that I've gotten really good at it. While it may seem effortless, what you don't see or even know is the tremendous destruction and emotional death that it causes in me. Nope, I keep that chapter to myself. I can't even imagine ever letting anyone see that chapter. I can barely stand to look at it. But it's there and it only grows longer. It's become a twist that, at first, was meant to lighten the mood, be entertaining to a degree, and keep things simple and easy. Unfortunately, this twist is pretty knotted up and I'm having difficulty in untying the knots.

You bought the story at least as far as I can tell. I move on. You move on. For me though, rather than starting a new book, I pretty much flip to the beginning and start this book over. Why bother trying something new when this one works so well? More accurately, I've grown accustomed and familiar with this book. No matter how terrible of a story it is, no matter how many times no one wins in the end, no matter how inaccurate each detail becomes, I've gotten really good at telling it. How can I give up something I am actually good at? How can I change the same show that people expect from me? How can I change what I expect from myself?

Flash forward.

Fear.

Fear of loneliness. Fear of sadness. Fear of crying. Fear of holding on too tight. Fear of letting go. Fear of my anger. Fear of what I miss. Fear of loss - incredible loss. Fear of mourning. Fear of loving. Fear of commitment. Fear of honesty. Fear of trust. Fear of losing control. Fear of someone else beating me to it. Fear of the unknown. Fear of faith. Fear of life sometimes. Fear of reasons. Fear of excuses. Fear of death. Fear of illness. Fear of attachment. Fear of abandonment. Fear of rejection. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of not being important enough. Fear of hurting. Fear of losing direction. Fear of personal investment. Fear of emotions. Fear of trusting too much. Fear of giving too much. Fear of my insecurities. Fear of my vulnerabilities. Fear of being picked last. Fear of never being truly happy. Fear of being lied to. Fear of insensitivity. Fear of bad communication. Fear of myself sometimes. Fear of you.

How do you become unafraid of the dark when the dark constantly protects you, soothes you, and creates a seemingly unbeatable barrier that you can hide behind and feel safe and secure even though it's a false sense of safety and security and you're still scared of it? How do you become unafraid of the monsters beneath your bed when the monsters have also encouraged you to tell your stories over and over again even though you know it's wrong and you're still scared of them? How do you jump off that cliff into the bottomless pit full of darkness and monsters when the cliff has kept you high above the muck?

How do I become unafraid when there is so much to be afraid of?