On fear. And not knowing how to get rid of it

Afraid. Afraid of bad scenarios – never been much of an anxious person before.

Afraid of leaving my parents childless. Afraid of thinking they might get old before me being there to help them sort things out. 

Afraid of thinking I won’t get my niece growing up, becoming her confidante, telling her stories of how much her father loved her for the short time they got to spend together.

Afraid of doctors never finding out what or if there is something wrong with my body or with my mind, or maybe both. Afraid of them finding there is something there that so many others ignored for months now.

Afraid of not getting rid of all these insecurities, of the feeling of falling from my own body, of not being able to enjoy the summer I’ve so much longed for.

Afraid of not getting to see myself improve. Make new friends. Fall in love. Start a home for two or maybe three or four, which would also have a bull terrier named Ruki and a frenchie called JohnGreen or Albus or Jackie or Frakie.

Afraid of not having enough time to read all the books in my Kindle, bookshelves and the ones from my “to-read” list on Goodreads.

Afraid of not being able to see and enjoy the world – Jordan, Thailand, Vietnam, Bali, India, Japan, Norway, Mongolia, China, Poland, south of France, the seas and oceans and rivers of the world, so many many places I haven’t even thought of yet.

Afraid of not hearing Fall Out Boy and Twenty One Pilots and Panic!At the Disco and Tom Odell and Ludovico Einauldi and Jason Mraz (again) and OneRepublic and, and, and…of not going to a live concert of each and every one of them at least once.

Afraid of not getting to say “I Love You” for the first time and really mean it, over a glass of rose, while talking about future travels and plans and hopes and fears. I can picture everything happening in Porto maybe – where I’d return with all my heart -, or maybe Tuscany or Nice or just the balcony in a crowded apartment in the City.

Afraid of not remembering how happy used to feel. Of not laughing “with my liver” (as Ketut from Eat, Pray, Love would say) again. Afraid of not getting to learn those languages I dream of for so long: Italian and Portuguese and maybe Russian or Swedish.

Afraid of never getting to grow old and wise and surrounded by little people I share blood with.

Afraid. So afraid of feeling that the world is going to end way to soon. Afraid of leaving a mess behind and parents who will never be taken care of when they grow old. And possibilities that will wither, and regrets and sorrow and bitterness.

Afraid of becoming jealous on people who seem so carefree and happy and healthy and perfectly normal on social media, of never becoming one of them.

I just wish my insecurities wouldn’t be so heavy, so paralyzing, so obsessive, so terrifying. I just wish it is all in my head and one of these days I will wake up to realize I can enjoy life more than I’ve ever done it in all these 27 years.

I wish for this fear and uncertainty to leave room for a long life well and happily lived. I try to become a BELIEVER. So help me out. Help me chase my fears away and let the room open for possibilities and opportunities and blessings and love of life.