So to carry on in the correct place, my own journal.
The drama in the moment of writing about the fear of failing again, has revealed more of the simplicity I look for these days, rather than any “thought out” type of conclusions based on the “story of my life”.
The simplicity is the basic fear intrinsic to being a survival (and reproductive) program, at my core. It’s a feedback loop which is now focused on the fact there is a lot less potential life ahead, than there is behind, and the daily reminders from the aging process that this is not math, or theoretical.
The fear, which is me, and has always been so much that a) was ever present, b) not admitted, ever.
I distinctly remember the moment I vowed to myself I would not admit I was afraid even. It of course, didn’t stop me being afraid, but it means I denied it to myself so thoroughly that in many circumstances I didn’t even feel it.
That moment was as a child when the stove caught on fire, an oil fire on the cooktop when someone had left oil heating up. I remember “screaming like a girl” and in that was even going to douse the flames with water, though I don’t remember what happened. I remember such shame sitting on the step out the front of the house, that I vowed that I would never be afraid again.
I was about 10 years old, I think.
I have of course, felt fear many many times, but it is surprising how few, if any will I openly admit feeling it. I probably have talked about it, in theory, but admitting, in the moment, that I am afraid, is rare.