A Life of Fear

We often tell ourselves that we have nothing to fear. We live in a reality that is closer to fiction, telling ourselves all will be well.

Lately I have been thinking about the life I’m living and the fears I hide so well. I find myself trapped between thoughts of escape and defeat. I wonder if I could run away from it all. Maybe move to another town, another country. Maybe then I will be free from the fears that keep me in my current state of mind. A state of mind that people think I have willingly accepted, and confidently call home. Maybe then I will escape the person that I am.

However much I dream, the fears still remain. I ask myself if this is it. If I will be forever stuck in a state of limbo. My psychiatrist told me that after seven years, I will be as good as new. But what if the pills don’t work? What if I’m one of those people who remain depressed forever? My life consisting of purple pills and hour long session, suicidal thoughts and medical bills. I’m afraid that I will live in this place forever. Not knowing how it really feels like to be happy. To have a life where the good outweighs the bad, even if it’s just by a fraction.

I look at my nephews and find myself asking if I will be blessed with that privilege. To have the opportunity to have my own child. However the thought soon follows with extreme anxiety. I fear the idea that I mat suffer from post partum depression and harm my own child. Or worse yet, I’m afraid that my child will suffer from depression and thus forced to live with the extreme darkness I often face. If anything, that would make me a selfish individual.

I wish to live a life of little fear. A life where I’m not overwhelmed by the thought of what is or what could be.