Living with fear

All my life, I’ve searched for stability and safety. The first time I saw it clearly, my mom had come out to the dirt pile I was playing on. “Why do you want to live with, me or your father,” she asked 4-year-old me (and probably an older sibling, but I don’t remember which).

Even that young, I knew my father would never be a caretaker. At least not one I could trust.

It was a few more years before the decision of which parent would have the children needed to be made, and my mom and dad made it.

But since that time, my need for security has ruled my life. You wouldn’t know it to look at me. Within the confines of my life, I am so free. I will dance down the sidewalk to music only I hear, and I’ll talk to strangers and connect people.

But I will not leave a secure job for a freelance lifestyle. I guess I could now with the ACA, but until then, I was tied to a steady paycheck and insurance.

Now, as my body rebels, so my friend says, I am still too afraid to make a change. My friend, R, told me Spirit said my body, the pain that started in my hands and is sometimes a 9 on a 10-point scale, is rebelling because I am not doing what I’m supposed to do. I’m not sharing my gifts to the world. (I struggle to know I have gifts for the world; working on this.)

So I awaken often in terrified pain. On weekends, even though I know “motion is lotion” I often stay still because it hurts to move. It also gets better when I move, but it sometimes feels so good to crawl back in bed with my coffee hot chocolate mix and just enjoy pain free. I pay for Saturday’s rest on Sunday and I pay for Sunday’s rest on Monday. Getting better.

I have a team. I have folks who love me, even from afar. I have Ken, about whom you will hear more in the future. I have an amazing two-level-up supervisor, who gets these weird body things.

I am terrified this is my life. Today I learned I have a new great niece or nephew coming in March. These are humans worth living for.

So for now.