The Boundary of Fear & Happiness

I’ll start of by saying: I’m afraid.

I think we’re all afraid when we first start out. At birth we’re pushed through the warm cocoon of our mother, yanked out, the umbilical cord is cut, air is pumped into our lungs and then thrown into the arms of a woman who may or may not be ready for us. All harsh staggered smooth movements that jerk us into the world.

I was ready for the world. Eyes wide open I was always silently observing everything, I missed nothing, touched (broke) everything. But I don’t think my umbilical cord was cut when I was born. It took sixteen years for me to realize I was still connected to my mother by the ghost of a thought. Twenty-six years later, my mother still has trouble realizing: my daughter is not inside me, she is her own person.

I’m afraid of being a bad daughter. An ungrateful one to the mother who had to raise two daughters on her own. To a mother who was hardly home. To a woman who learned to depend on others and eventually, manipulate others for money. I don’t know this woman. But this is another story.

I’m afraid of not being good enough. A good enough writer, a good enough painter, a good enough human being in this world. Let’s face it, the people in this world are harsh at times and it takes a few minutes, a few breaths, to realize: I am human, I am capable of thought and consideration. I’m afraid that I don’t have the skill or the Truth to write down the words that should be written. I’m afraid that the one thing that I’ve ever really wanted in the world — to write — is just a wild and tragic fantasy of mine. But what’s “good enough”? From where did I cultivate these fears? Why do I let them hold me back? Because once I let go, once I let everything go- I will be (more) vulnerable. I will be fully responsible for myself and my actions. There will be no more excuses. I will face the reality of: there are things I need to work on. And just, fuck, life is tough enough as it is- let me be ignorant for just a little longer.

I am twenty-six years old and it’s time to let go of everything holding me back, accept the fear, embrace it, kiss it fully on the mouth and start the journey of fear/happiness. There’s relief in that. I will be doing something that makes me happy, that pushes my boundaries. That binary of fear and happiness compliment each other. The fear of failure can fuel the honest pursual of happiness. There is failure in not letting yourself try.

As long as I am truly myself and not some expected image of myself — it will all work out. I will not give up. Failure does not equate ME. Failure is a process that demands persistence.

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