Fear is ever-present. It’s inside me just waiting to remind me that it’s there. Like a monster in the closet. And just when I think I’m safe; just when I think I’ll be okay; it jumps out and reminds me it’s there. It tells me it’s not leaving. It tells me I could be sick again; that I could die at any moment. I want to tell the fear that it cannot hurt me, because fear itself cannot cause us harm. But I know that what it’s reminding me of can hurt me: cancer, chemo, all of it. Every moment of every minute of every hour of every day I am on the verge of tears and all I want is someone to be there to catch me as I fall, or to help me not fall. Because I’m scared. And this isn’t fear like the kind you get when that monster jumps out of the closet. This fear is internal and invisible. And if I ignore it I may die.
The twisted part is that I went through so much already that I thought I wouldn’t be afraid of anything anymore but I am. And it sucks.