Wednesday, October 8, 2014


I was talking to a new friend last week about fear, having just watched Divergent with my roommate and being in the midst of another year of Delusion. If you are unfamiliar, in Divergent, people are placed into a video game-esque simulated situation within their own mind, where they must confront and conquer all their greatest fears, and Delusion is interactive horror theater where the audience must participate in order to advance the story. My friend mentioned the usual situations, like being trapped inside a car that is sinking in a lake, and then turned the conversation on me. The only thing that came to mind was getting sick again.

Most people fear outlandish or extraordinary circumstances that are highly unlikely and that they will probably never actually experience. My fear is something I've lived through. Something I'm familiar with. Something I'd be horrified to live through again.

And it has been on my mind, because my stomach felt ucky for over a week, which always kicks me into survival mode. I got it checked out, and, surprise, it's because I'm not eating the things I should be eating. I've gotten a little lax in my diet, and that's just inviting this junk to come back, so I'm cutting back again. Way to go, Genius.

That being said, I'm now realizing that what I told her wasn't the whole story. Yes, I'm afraid of having to tailor my life around this illness my whole life and I'm afraid of it always being in the back of my mind. But, I'm more afraid that I'm becoming bitter and resentful about it, and I'm afraid that I was actually a better person when I was sick. It's amazing how thinking you're dying changes your perspective.

Some of my closest friends have taken to jokingly point out when I say I don't like something, and it's upsetting to think that I've become one of those negative people. I've always been honest with my feelings, but I was never this vocal or curt in my life, even when I was in immense emotional or physical pain, and this is not who I want to be. I think I got to the point where I had nothing left to lose, and was so embittered about people not saying the things that needed saying when they had the chance, that I let my tact and grace filter out with the toxins in my blood, and now I'm left with a toxic viewpoint.

I thought I processed everything that's happened, but it's becoming apparent that I didn't and that is also scary. (I know it will take time and I'm working on it.)

I guess what I'm trying to say is that my fear is that I'm not allowing myself to be a better person after having lived through all this and if that's the case, then what was the fucking point? And even scarier, I know that there probably wasn't a point, because shit just happens, and I'm supposed to create a point, but I'm still so upset that it happened in the first place that I'd rather project that anger onto everything else in my life and poison the atmosphere around me than to fashion the point. And that is the scariest thing I can imagine.

I was given a second lease on life, and I'm happier than I've ever been in my life, so how dare I put out any negative energy! From now on, I'm going to stop saying I don't like things unless specifically asked and I'm going to start putting forth as much positive energy as I can muster. After all, you get what you give, right? I owe it to myself and to everyone around me. If I'm going to be a total asshole, then I may as well have just died. And that's probably the scariest thing I've ever written throughout this whole blog.

"Fear keeps us focused on the past or worried about the future. If we can acknowledge our fear, we can realize that right now we are okay. Right now, today, we are still alive, and our bodies are working marvelously. Our eyes can still see the beautiful sky. Our ears can still hear the voices of our loved ones." -Thich Nhat Hanh

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