Wrestling with fear

garden-post-take2

 (photo @spasmicallyperfect)

 

One of the lessons I’ve learned in this life is not to become complacent. With whatever it is, from growing flowers to relationships to myself. And yet again, I’ve caught myself having ignored or better failed to have given the proper amount of attention to one aspect of my life: fear.

It’s not the failure itself that bothers me here, I’ve been around long enough to realise that’s the way my life works, it’s not about the perfect record, it’s about not giving up trying. What disturbs me here, is the magnitude with which this oversight or probably more accurately ignorance has come crashing down. I’m a strong person, I have a in some ways narrow but strong belief system, one that I can always count on.

Over the last few weeks I’ve been battling with what started out looking like the flu, then stress, then January blues. As I am writing these lines I feel my stomach and chest knotted up, having to force myself to breathe and tears just waiting to fall any given moment. I am writing this, because still, I’m better.

Because I know what it is. I know why I am here. I know that along the last 6 months of my road things have come up, that needed dealing with, and I didn’t do it. I don’t think I conciously avoided them, for that isn’t really me. Life just got very busy and like most of us, it takes less to figure out that work, family, friends, homes etc need attention than to realise that we do.

I feel like I’m standing looking into the garden of my soul, my secret, holy garden of energy and it’s massively overgrown with strong, dark vines, that block most the sun from getting through.

Yesterday I sat down and documented all the ones that I could see. And now that I’ve written them all down, I see them as just that, vines of various sizes and strengths that need to be assessed, some cut, some dug out, some may turn out to be fake, some may even still linger as part of my garden and are ready to resprout any moment.

The path ahead looks daunting. But that doesn’t matter. For I remember the garden, I remember what it’s made of, how beautiful it blooms, I can still feel it underneath of all of the obstacles, the pain, the fear.

And now that I’ve realised where I am, and what is wrong there is but one way to go. Forward.

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~ by spasmicallyperfect on January 25, 2009.

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