In fear of fear; in fear of myself

I have to do something tomorrow. It’s a nice something, a fortunate thing which many in this world would never have the opportunity to do. I can’t write about it here – this is an anonymous blog – as I’ll give the details away but, as is my constant and unending fear of living, the special something has been threatening to flip upside down into a nightmare prospect.

Happily I’m quite convinced it won’t; I almost feel in control. Given my ridiculously busy life at the moment I’ve not even had a chance to worry about it – idle minds give the devil far too much room to cause a mess. So here I am, unable to sleep, pondering my extraordinary life – one in which I’m almost on the verge of becoming relatively famous in my field. And I’m asking myself “what the hell am I doing?”

I sometimes trot out that old cliche “good things come to those who wait” but it’s the most flawed of expressions. I don’t know anyone who has sat around waiting for life to pass him by who is remotely happy. I used to, and I was not happy. Pushing yourself, really testing yourself (whatever that might mean, or be) is the only way forward. It’s painful, stressful, tiring, depressing and even liable to cause a few breakdowns on the way…but, at some point, you reach a peak and can look down on (and back at) the lows with a degree of satisfaction. And I suppose I’m doing that tonight. My only fear about tomorrow is the fear I have always had: what will people think of me? Why are they looking at me like that?

I fear myself and I fear fear itself. Yet I never fear the future.