Fear has become my constant companion these past months, sowing seeds of doubt, confusion, and discouragement that have taken root deep down inside of me where my essence and passions are conceived.
It has choked my creativity, inhibiting my freedom to write and paint the way I want, the way I know I can. My growth in these areas has been stifled, stunted-my movements restricted. Every expression these past months has just skimmed the surface of what lays deeper inside, what’s patiently waiting for me to discover & explore.
And that’s the thing-I’m afraid of going deeper. I’m afraid to find out where this longing to go deeper plans on taking me.
What if I can’t handle it?
What if the growth that’s required is too much, the growing pains too painful to endure?
What if I fail?
What if I’m wrong and there’s nothing really there?
What if the surface is all there is?
What if this is all just paranoia and an overblown exaggeration-grandiose thinking, on my part?
I’m feeling the urge and pull to dig deeper creatively, and go bigger in my creative pursuits…but I’m terrified if giving myself to it completely. Without trying to sound “deep”, I feel, well myself being called to be MORE of who I am creatively and otherwise, and that scares me shitless.
This fear it weighs me down, and while it leaves me paralyzed creatively, it has me shrinking back in other areas of my life too-as a mother, a wife, a friend, an advocate.
I’m terrified of my illness now that I’m pregnant. I know what it’s capable of, I know what my risks are, and although I’m doing all I can to be “well,” I’m so fucking scared. I don’t want to go through another 3 years of darkness. I don’t want to be hospitalized again.
I’m scared I won’t be the mother Alex needs me to be. It’s been intense, the 5 weeks since he started therapy, and now that OT and speech have been added, our daily schedule has drastically changed, as has my whole approach to parenting him. I’m learning how to see the world through his eyes and identify what puts him on edge, what triggers him, trying to find that delicate balance between protecting him and gently pushing him to where he can function despite his anxieties & sensory deficiencies. It’s been a learning curve for all of us, and I’m questioning if I can keep stepping up to the plate and being the mother he needs and the kind I want to be for him. I struggle to manage my own illness-can I help my autistic and sensory defensive son be all that he wants to be? Can I help him function?
I’m afraid I can’t hold it altogether for us, be the strong one, the rock. I’m honestly just overwhelmed. I feel feeble, weak, especially physically. With my pregnancy being difficult to manage physically thus far, changing up my meds, trying to manage my symptoms, dealing with the VA BS, Alex’s schedule and adapting to his needs, keeping up with Brennan and his school schedule, keeping up with marriage and domestic life, life in general? Every day I feel like I’m going to break in two from the pressure of it all.
I’m scared to let the boys down. Myself down. Bertski down. This new baby I’m carrying down.
I’m afraid of losing my drive and ambition…especially in regards to writing my book(s?).
I’m afraid of losing myself in my journey to balance & survive motherhood & mental illness.
Is it wrong or irrational of me to want to be more, do more, for myself and others?
What am I DOING with my life? I’m a mom, I’ve served in the Air Force, I have an associates degree, I’m a wife, I try to write here….yet it feels like I’m not doing enough, like I’m not being completely…ME.
Maybe this is just grandiosity talking, but since I was very young, I’ve always carried this feeling that I can make an impact of some kind on the world around me…and I’m afraid I’ll never realize what that is. I’m afraid of living without purpose-outside of being a wife and mother. Right now it just feels like I’m fizzling out. Decaying, even. It’s depressing.
I don’t know. This is starting to sound like a pitiful lament, and it’s not my intent for it to.
I hate fear. It used to motivate me to ACT, but since the new year started all it’s done is keep me rooted to where I’m currently standing, slowly creating a sinkhole for me to eventually fall into.
If that happens I can’t help but think I’m fucked.