Know Fear

Hello, fear!

It’s okay to be surprised, for I’ve either ignored you completely or been at war with you for most of my life. I had no idea what was going on. I thought you were a demon, something to be conquered, but even when I beat you, you were never really vanquished. You were always there, whispering in my ear, telling me stories of what horrors might happen if my arthritis came back or I kept that dental appointment.

You’re a pro at stirring up my imagination.

I know now what you were doing—what you are doing—and I’m not angry about it. You’re only trying to protect me, to warn me of potential danger and thus keep me safe. I appreciate your concern, truly I do, but I can also tell you it’s not necessary. I’m fine right now and I’ll be fine down the road. I’m not saying we won’t cross paths again. I know we will, and when we do, I’ll say the same thing I’m saying here:

Thank you for coming by. I see you and I hear you, and I understand your intention. It’s okay. And now it’s time to part ways, so I am going to tuck you into this pretty silver box, tie it with a big pink ribbon (’cause it’s hard to be a badass when you’re tied with a pink ribbon), and set you carefully into this bubbly little stream. I’ll stand on the bank and watch you float away. I’ll even wave as you disappear around the bend, and then I’ll continue my journey alongside the same stream. I might come upon you washed up on the bank at some point, and I’ll do the same thing. I’ll acknowledge you, I’ll reassure you that all is well, and I’ll send you on your way.

With love,