Fears

It changes. I used to “What if” myself all the time, but not so much anymore. My new scare is breast cancer. I’ve been touching poking myself more than a stripper on a pole lately. I think this goes to my fear of leaving my family too soon. I’m living my dream and I afraid something will take it away. When this happens, I think of myself as a ninety-year old woman sitting on the front porch with my husband, Derek. Content and peaceful with the long life I’ve lived.

When I’m in the depths of my PPD, the worst thing that happens to me, I’ll call the ‘what ifs’. What if Zachary gets hit by a car? What if Joshua gets kidnapped one day? I can ‘what if’ myself into an early grave. When I’m well, these thoughts come up, but I’m able to put them away again – thank god! When I’m well, the thing that scares me is the fact that I am responsible for these kids in every way. They need me for everything!!! Food, clothing, shelter, love, transportation, and the list goes on. I find that overwhelming sometimes, but when I get really freaked out is when I follow that thought to it’s next logical conclusion. I think, “oh my god – I am responsible for turning these little people into happy, healthy, functioning, independent, good people’. That is a heavy burden to carry. What if I screw up and damage them in some terrible way? Will they one day be 30 years old sitting on some therapist couch somewhere complaining about how I broke them? That terrifies me because the only thing I can do is my best, but what if somehow that’s not good enough?