The Monsters

The best days are the days I sit down with splotchy ugly cry face and I finish with a smile.  They are the mornings I look under my bed and shout “Get the fuck out, Monsters.”  At the very least they are the mornings I pretend that writing about them, giving a name to the fears that keep me up at night will grant me a good night’s sleep.

I am more afraid than I care to admit.  And far more afraid than I let on, typically.

These are a few things I am afraid of.

Diamonds on the inside… – I used to be afraid of letting the inside show.

I feel stupid… and contagious.  I am always afraid to ask for help.

hȯr-ˈmō-nəl: of, relating to, or effected by hormones – Sometimes I am afraid of being afraid.

Ride on Red Hot Mama – I was afraid that growing up and moving on would mean I would have to leave the good parts of my past behind, too.

Fear can hold you prisoner, hope can set you free.  More than anything else I was afraid I would not be able to get pregnant.  I was afraid my second chance would not include a baby.

One Bad Mamajama – I fear that being a mother makes you less of a sexual creature. But intellectually I know that it isn’t so.

Gimme some love!! Please?

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